Tidalverse: The Fearsome Foursome

Chapters

Chapter 2: She followed us home, can we keep her?
Chapter 3: We gotta get out of this place, but how?
Chapter 4- Saint Joseph, and no aspirin...
Chapter 5- Doing a Wilbert Harrison
Chapter 6: Operation Manticore, or something like that...
Chapter 7: Doctor, Florist, Big Bear, Chief!
Chapter 8: The Dog and Pony Show part 1- the Ponies
Chapter 9: Dog and Pony Show part 2: The Dogs
Chapter 10: A Tale on Two Rivers
Chapter 11: Memphis
Chapter 12: Life with Elvis
Chapter 13: After Elvis...
Chapter 15- Vicksburg, departing.
Chapter 16- When you come to the fork in the river, take it!
Chapter 17: Down in Louisiana, where the black trees grow....
Chapter 18: To Mobile and Beyond!
Chapter 19: The Pensacola Bus Return Rescue
Chapter 20: Class is Now in Session
Chapter 21: Captain Frick, I caught a BIG one!
Chapter 22: I Got Your Goat
Chapter 23: Holes, Balls and Falls
Chapter 24: Dude(tte) Drop In
Chapter 25: Burning Bridges
Chapter 26: Malala and Michie
Chapter 27: Facing Fright
Chapter 28: The Flies Have It or The Ones That Go Flirt
Chapter 30: The Dragon In The Doorway
Chapter 31: Per-cussion!
Chapter 32: Who's that knocking at my door?
Chapter 33: The Hottest Spot North of Havana
Chapter 34: Is there no end to bureaucracy?
Chapter 35: Two Ships Passing By In The Day
Chapter 36: Flocking to the Rescue
Chapter 37: Can Frack Hold His Temper?
Chapter 38: The Vex'd Bermoothes
Chapter 39: Maasvlakte, at last!
Chapter 1: From fishing to freezing, without even blinking.
Chapter 14- Vicksburg, arriving.
Chapter 29: Chick-a-BOOM! (Don't you just love it!)

Chapter 2: She followed us home, can we keep her?

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, not to mention cold. The 4-F’s woke to have a leisurely breakfast, followed by a short prayer service of thanks and forgiveness, before getting to work. Frick and Frack went to work on Deliverance, learning where everything is on the boat. Fred and Freida went scavenging, checking out the houses close by for food, fuel and bottled water. It wasn’t long before a problem cropped up.

Frack found his older brother at the lower control station, enjoying the cabin warmth as he studied the little ship’s controls. “Big bro, we have a problem,” he said as soberly as he could, contrary to his usual upbeat nature.

“Little bro, when you say that, I worry. What’s the problem?” Frick asked, pushing his bright purple mane out away from his left eye. A vain attempt, because the hair promptly fell back.

“The diesel fuel, bro. It’s been sitting since May, and it is now December. Fuel spoils if it’s allowed to sit. The generator day tank was treated, but the main tank is not. We’ve got to clear the crap out of the fuel, both in the tank and whatever we find, or else those big Cummins diesels are gonna clog up and get ruined, leaving us dead in the water,” Frack told his brother, his own golden mane hanging a bit limp around his neck. Still a mess, though.

“Well, since you found the problem, can you find a solution?”

Frack went from gloomy to cheerful in about half a second, his mane going from flat to fluffy. “Already have, bro! It’s just we’re going to have to do some scavenging. I know what we need, AND I know where to find most of the stuff!”

“Where at? Omaha?”

“Nope! Right here in Fremont! There’s a marine supply store I know about there, and for the rest, a good hardware store and a pharmacy should give us what we need!” Frack said with a bit of a laugh.

“A pharmacy? Whatever for?” Frick asked, wondering if his little brother was on to something, or had completely flipped his nut. He wouldn’t take odds either way.

“Cotton! Lots and lots of plain cotton! Using it as a prefilter before the regular filters, the cotton gets most of the globs of gunk out before the regular filters take care of the water and the mold and the rest of the crap. One pure prefilter should allow us to fill the main tank before we have to change it!” Frack explained.

“You’re the mechanic, I’m the electronics tech. Don’t we need some additive as well, like drygas or an octane booster?” Frack asked.

“Sea Foam, bro! There should be gallons of it at the marine supply place! We just gotta remember, whenever we add fuel, to filter and treat it BEFORE we put it in the tanks. In fact, I can kitbash something from what we have aboard right now, to get the day tank refueled before it runs out.”

“We have some of the stuff aboard?” Frick asked.

“If we didn’t, I would not have said so. We don’t have much, but I think we have enough to fill the day tank once, or nearly. Want me to get started on it?” Frack asked, his hooves twitching in anticipation.

“Go for it, Mister Scott. Go do the hoo doo you do so well!” Frick ordered with a smile.

“Aye, Captain!” Frack replied, saluting with a wing before heading aft. The two have been Star Trek fans since they were little.

Frick picked up his radio in his purple telekinetic glow. “Hey, Fred, got some more things for you to look for while you’re house prowling…” he said.

That evening, over dinner, the foursome talked in the saloon. “Okay, everyone, time for the nightly situation report. Chief Engineer, you bat leadoff,” Frick said from the pilot’s chair.

“Okay, we managed to scavenge up enough filter material to get the day tank filled with clean diesel and additive, so we are assured of power for the next day or so. What I propose is that tomorrow, Freida and I fly to Fremont and do some scouting for materials, while you and Fred see about getting a car or truck running at least long enough for a trip to town and back. Think you can handle that?” Frack asked.

Frick glanced over to Fred, who gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head. “Okay, let’s do that then. Fred, have you found anything today that could be of help?”

“Yes, I did. Found an electric golf cart and a portable generator about half-full of good gas. I can start the generator early tomorrow and charge the cart until we get a full charge or the gas runs out. Should be good for at least one trip to town. If all else fails, we’ll bring my harness and I’ll pull the thing,” Fred said in his normal calm voice. “That would be slower, and wasting time isn’t good.”

“Okay. Purser, supply status, please,” Frick asked next, looking at Freida.

“Well, we struck gold two houses down, Fred and I. Apparently, the people who lived there liked to do home canning, and I brought some of it over. Could use another day or two to empty the place, that and a little red wagon. I also found the fill spout for the fresh water tank, and I got it topped off, thanks to someone ordering forty gallons of Crystal water.
“One of the things to look for tomorrow is to find more water, and be careful with what we have. Running river water through survival straws and filter pitchers is going to be slow,” Freida cautioned, looking at the stallions in turn. “That’s why we’re using big plastic plates for dinner tonight, only needing to wash the cookpots.”

“Good thing for us all to remember,” Frick said in agreement. “Fred, what about fuel?”

“Well, most of what I found is bad gasoline, not much diesel so far. I think I can scrounge up ten to fifteen gallons of good gas for the portable generator, so we can use a pump to get fuel out of tanks. We’re going to have to look for some pumps, too. We’ll need one each for gas, diesel and water, and keep them separate.” Fred advised.

“Sound advice, Fred. Now, let’s clean up and get to bed. Lots of work tomorrow,” Frick said, standing up and starting to wash the pots, since he was closest to the galley sink.

Bright and early the next morning, the foursome got to work. Frack and Freida flew off to town, Frack wearing his improvised saddlebags. Fred led Frick to where he had found the generator and golf cart, and got started charging the thing. With that job in hoof, Fred led Frick to the cannery, and salvaged most of what was there, finding places to stow the boxes of jars aboard the boat.

Frack and Freida checked in every hour, reporting their progress. The two in town were finding what they were looking for in various stores, stacking what they thought they needed in neat little piles. They had found much more than they could use right away, but they figured since they were there, pile it up. The next person coming could use the stuff, too.

They also looked for common supplies, like the one thing Frack insisted on, three cases of Vanilla Coke, in cans. Sure, he needed to use a tool or two to open the cans, but it was better than nothing. Besides, with practice, he could learn not to spill so much when opening the cans by himself. Freida focused on more practical items, like a heavy-duty sewing kit which could handle leather. Not that they expected to find leather, but many synthetics could laugh at a regular needle.

At noon, Frick and Fred drove to town, towing a wagon behind the golf cart. The two teams met up, and they went around town, picking up the stockpiles. Frack carried medical supplies they had found, including a very large wad of cotton to use in the prefilters. They agreed to return to town tomorrow, for more goods to take back, Frack being ‘pretty sure’ the next storm would not hit until the next evening. That night, the foursome did a lot of unpacking and stowing all over the little boat, even stashing items up on the fly bridge, in tightly sealed containers, of course.

Frack stayed up late, building a filtering apparatus. The contraption took up part of the aft deck, with one hose leading to shore and another hose going to the generator day tank. Once he finished that, he headed off to bed, taking the time to clean up. “Tomorrow, we’ll see how it will work,” he said to himself before heading below decks.

The foursome woke up to blizzard conditions, visibility outside reduced to not much at all. “Frack, how much longer do we have before the generator runs out of fuel?” Frick asked.

“Mid-afternoon at best, bro. Let’s give it an hour or so, and if it hasn’t stopped blowing, I’ll head out to refill the tank,” Frack said with a little optimism.

“I’ll go out with you, Frack,” Fred said. “We have to run a line from the main fuel tank, right?”

Frack nodded. “Yes. I found a drain line we can attach the hose to, and use that to draw fuel from the main tank. It’s not going to be easy, because of the cold, but I think we can pull it off. Once we get suction into the pump, the outlet pressure should be enough to get the fuel through the filters. If not, we’re going to need a bigger pump.”

“You know where we can find one?” Fred asked.

Frack nodded, his gold mane flying about. “In town.”

“Let’s hope we can make do with what we got,” Fred said before sipping his coffee.

An hour later, the blizzard-like conditions outside had backed off some. It was still snowing and blowing, but you could see two houses down. Reluctantly, the two set out to get the fuel transferred and cleaned. It took two hours, but they managed to get the generator day tank refilled. “Good thing you knew ways around the problems, Frack,” Fred said when they came back in.

“We had to go to a smaller pump, but one that had enough pressure. Glad I snagged one yesterday,” Frack said before opening a can of VC. This time, there was not too much spray.

“Now that THAT chore is done, when do you think it will stop snowing?” Frick asked from the control console.

Frack shut his eyes and thought, feeling out the storm. “About suppertime. Looks like it’s housework all day,” he said.

“Okay, then. I think I got the radio on here figured out. I doubt we can transmit all the way to the WSU, but I should be able to pull them in. Fortunately, they transmit almost all the time, so they’re not too hard to find,” Frick said as he used a stylus in his glow to set the radio to the WSU’s frequency.

The first thing they heard was a lecture on fuel purification. “Good thing we have you, Frack,” Freida said as she pulled a pan of rolls out of the oven and put in two loaves of dough. “From what they say about cleaning fuel, we don’t have half the stuff and the other half I never heard of!”

“You missed one thing, Freida. They were talking about a larger scale operation than we are operating on. We just have to worry about the Deliverance here. They were talking about a diesel generator big enough to power a colony,” Frack said as he went to snitch a roll, to stop after a wing slap from Freida.

“You wait until I get them set up, Frack! Or else I’ll toss your grape jelly overboard!” she snapped.

“Okay,” Frack said, moving away from the galley section to sit on the sofa, watching the snow fall.

“Think we can find a satphone in town tomorrow, Frick?” Fred asked.

“We can try. There might be some in one of the phone stores. Thing is, I don’t know a hell of a lot about the Iridium system. Hope we can find a guide book or two to tell us how to link in to the system,” Frick said with a sigh. “Gonna be a challenge.”

“Think you can come up with a small, but powerful shortwave set?” Frack asked.

“Won’t be much of a problem, but my main issues with that are the power and antenna systems. I’ve never tried to QX Europe before. Best I ever managed was twenty-five years or so ago when I managed to pull in someone who went by the call sign of Juliet Yankee One. Wasn’t until years later that I found out who it was,” Frick said as he turned back to the radio console.

“Just who was it, Frick?” Freida asked.

“The King of Jordan, broadcasting from Amman.”

“Oh, my…” Frieda whispered.

The four puttered about the boat most of that day, the weather outside being too nasty for them to want to go out, rather they stayed inside and enjoyed the heat. Frick studied the ship manuals some more, sure he had missed something, Frack helped Freida remake Fred’s harness into something more comfortable to wear, and Fred either read his Bible or found something to do that needed doing. The three ponies found that using hooves was not quite as good as hands, but they didn’t bother thinking about details. All four are practical folk, if it needs doing, they do it. If they can, of course. If not, Frick and Freida would be called in for fine dexterity jobs.

The next morning dawned clear, crisp and COLD, with a foot and a half of snow on the ground and the lake partially iced over. “Well, dammitall... “ Frick said when he came up the steps to the saloon and looked out. “What the hell are we going to do now?” he grumped.

Fred just looked at the Captain calmly, as was his wont. “Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh…” he sang in a voice that led choirs at St. Isidore’s.

“You know where we can find one, Fred?” Frack asked.

“Yep. Four houses down, in the garage, is a sleigh. Looked in good condition. You can hitch me up to it, and I can slog through this stuff to Fremont and back. You want to hit up the phone stores, right?” Fred asked.

“Phone and computer, if we can’t find anything in the phone stores. Here’s hoping. The setup on here may have satellite capability, but I don’t know enough to find it or use it right. I’m more used to the bigger satellite dishes, but that’s for a commercial station, not for personal use like this,” Frick said before Freida passed him a cup of coffee.

“Don’t sweat it, Frick. We have faith in you. Just have a little patience,” Freida counseled before starting to cook breakfast.

Noontime found the foursome in Fremont, Fred pulling the sleigh, Frack and Freida flying about, gathering up some more useful items and bringing them to the sleigh. They did stop by Menard’s to pick up six sealable tubs, to store provisions on the fly bridge. Freida insisted on a stop for sewing supplies, grabbing two bolts of sturdy canvas and other sewing supplies to make better harnesses. Frick did hit up a cell phone store and a computer store, finding several satphones and some higher-end laptops which he had always wanted, but never could afford.

Mid-afternoon, they headed back to the boat to charge the phones and computers, and to stow their goods. Frack and Freida flew ahead to prepare a hot dinner. It wasn’t long before Frick got a call from his brother.

“Hey, bro, we got company!” Frack radioed in.

“Company? What do you mean company?” Frick asked.

“I mean there’s someone curled up on the aft deck, pressed up against the saloon doors, out like a light! Looks like a tall cat on two feet, wearing Cornhusker sweats!”

“Okay, get he or she inside, put them in the spare cabin and warm it up! Freida, you’re our Medical Officer, so see if you can bring it around. Frack, scout around a bit and find where it came from, okay?” Frick radioed back.

“Will do, bro! I’ll start the coffeepot first, then do a little hunting!”

“I don’t know why they say you’re dumb, little bro! Have at it, we should be back within half an hour!”

“Will do!”

“Fred, we got some company…” Frick started to say, but Fred interrupted.

“I heard, Frick. I’ll try to pick up the pace a bit. At least I have a broken-in trail to follow.” Fred went from a walk to a slow trot, careful where he put his hooves.

Francesca Anita Vasquez remembered going to bed on May twenty-second, glad to have a weekend coming up after a rather stressful week at her job as a cyber specialist working for the University of Nebraska. She was looking forward to sleeping in, then having a cookout with her parents and the rest of the family. What she didn’t expect is waking up to extreme cold and wearing a fur coat. She didn’t shriek in surprise, she shivered, quickly fumbling in the dark to her bedroom closet, where the blankets were kept. Breaking them out, she wrapped herself up on the bed and waited for the sun to rise and for her to warm up.

She woke up some time later to sunlight reflecting off the deep pile of snow and some noises she didn’t quite catch on to. Hurrying through the house, she saw a horse pulling a sleigh up the road. A blue horse with a black mane pulling the Culberson’s sleigh, with a grayish horse with a brilliant purple mane riding in the sleigh. She realized that those horses were her ticket out, but first she had to backtrack their path, to see where they came from. Her stomach reminded her there was something else she should take care of, so she went to take care of that.

It took her an hour to dress warmly, find a flashlight, check the fireplace, get some wood, find the matches, start a fire, find the camping gear, find the camping food and stored jerky, and fix herself a hot meal, with hot cocoa. For water, she went up to the patio and filled several camp pots with snow. Once she was warmed enough, she thought about what to wear before going outside in the frigid temperatures.

Francesca found that her new body was quite a bit taller than her previous one, and a lot smaller in many places. Her waist, bust and hips are much reduced from her previous proportions, her fur she could only classify as ‘tortoiseshell’ in patterning, and all the shoes in the house were too big for her. So, she did what she does best in times of pressure- improvise.

She found several pairs of her father’s socks, good thick ones. Putting three pairs on her feet enabled her mother’s snow boots to stay in place. Sure, she was digitigrade instead of plantigrade, but she wanted something more solid than socks on her feet. The snow looked deep and cold. Plus, traction would be of help. She then found enough sweaters to pad her upper body and three pairs of sweatpants for her lower. The socks came up high enough to meet the bottom of her sweatpant legs. Thus fortified, she set out.

The cold outside was fiercer than she had ever remembered it being, and she had grown up in this house. Walking through knee-high snow was a slow slog, snow immediately going down her boots to her feet. She found the horse tracks and started backtracking.

The trail led to the Culbertson house, where she could see they had hitched the sled up. A set of tracks led further down the street, where she noticed the Buescher’s new boat was not on the trailer, but in the water and some lights were on. Being cold and numb and getting colder and number by the minute, she made her way to the boat. It took a couple of minutes to get herself from the pier to the boat platform then onto the boat. She could see into the cabin, but the door was latched and her fingers were so numb, she couldn’t get the latch open. She sagged against the glass door as her strength ebbed, trying to suck up as much heat as she could.

The next thing Fran knew, she was waking up in a warm bed, undressed down to almost her fur, wrapped in a warm blanket, with a half-bird half-cat watching her. She let out a gasp of surprise as she woke.

“Hello, there. Would you like some hot soup? Beef and noodle. Dehydrated, but remade and hot!” the bird-thing said in a woman’s voice, holding out the cup.

Francesca nodded. “Please,” she said, reaching a hand out from under the blanket. The soup was hot, but not so hot to be uncomfortable. Carefully, she sipped, then some more, trying to get the beef bits out.

“Want a spoon for that?” the half-bird half-cat asked.

“Please,” Fran said, with the bird thing quickly producing a plastic spoon. She was hungry for the meat, and soon finished the cup. “Thank you, I needed that.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now, what’s your name? I’m Freida Halvorsen, from Oconee,” she said.

“I’m Francesca Vasquez. I live down the street, and I saw two colorful horses going down the street earlier today. I decided to backtrack. Guess I didn’t dress warm enough,” Francesca said, digging through the soup cup for some more.

“Let me get you another cup, Fran. You must be hungry!” Freida said with a small laugh, getting up.

“I am. Why are you on the Buescher’s boat?” Fran asked.

Freida took the cup. “I’ll tell you that after I refill this,” she said, going out of the cabin.

While Freida was gone, Fran shivered some, as heat and cold warred in her body. The cabin was rather plain, but the bed was big enough for her to stretch out some, if she laid down diagonally on it. “Boy, did I luck out…” she said to herself in Spanish.

“We all did, Fran, by finding this boat,” Freida said from the door, also in Spanish. “Here’s your refill. What would you like, coffee, tea, or Vanilla Coke?”

Fran started a little. “I didn’t hear you come down, Freida. You’re quiet! Hot coffee will be good. Do you have sugar and creamer?”

“Yes, and Coffee Mate. No milk yet. How much sugar? Two packs or three?”

“Three, please. How do you know Spanish so well?” Fran asked as she sipped from the soup cup, switching back to English.

“University of Nebraska, class of seventy-five, and being a librarian in Columbus ever since,” Freida said, stepping back out of the cabin.

“I went to the University too, class of twenty-twelve, and have been working there in the admin department since graduating, running and updating the computers,” Fran said.

“Great! Five Cornhuskers in one boat! Be right back!” Swiftly, Freida was back with a cup of coffee which smelled fresh. She put it down on the small table in the cabin. “Here you go!”

“Five Cornhuskers?” Fran asked after putting down the soup cup and having some coffee.

“My husband, Fred, and our friend Freidrick Larsen, were also class of seventy-five. Freidrick’s brother Franklin is class of nineteen eighty,” Freida explained.

“Wow,” Fran said. “What were those two horses I saw pulling the Culberson’s sleigh earlier?”

“My husband was pulling the sleigh and Frick was riding. You didn’t see Frack or I because we were flying,” Freida told the cat.

“Flying? How?” Fran asked, getting totally confused. “What happened to everyone?”

“I don’t have any idea. The four of us were out that Saturday morning, going fishing. Just after we parked on the shoreline, this bright flash happened and it was cold, windy, and we were all changed. It’s too cold for a pontoon boat, so we went downstream with Frack scouting from the air until he saw the boat on its trailer here. We then sailed from Columbus all the way down here in one afternoon. Good thing, because a storm hit. Actually, two. One last night, the other a couple days before.”

“Frick and Frack?” Fran asked, confused.

Freida let out a laugh. “Yes. They’ve been called that ever since Frack was an infant. Don’t remember who suggested it, but it stuck and stuck hard. I had to think to remember their real names!”

“All close friends, you are?”

“Oh, yes. For our entire lives. Would you believe I was sixty-three when this happened? So was Fred and Frick. Frack’s fifty-eight,”

“Really? I’m twenty-four. You sure don’t look like you're in your sixties. Neither did the other two I saw. If I may ask, just what kind of life form are you? I can’t quite recall seeing one before,” Fran asked.

“I’m a griffon. Half bird, half cat. Red tailed hawk and black panther. Don’t know how I’m able to fly, but I can and so can Frack. He’s a pegasus, Frick is a unicorn, and Fred’s a strong pony. Frick is a telekinetic,” Freida explained.

“May I ask who does what here? Will I be able to join you? I don’t want to be left alone in the cold up here,” Fran asked in a plaintive voice.

Freida took Fran’s hand in her claw and squeezed gently. “Of course, you can come! I’m the Purser and Medical officer, because I took an EMT class some years ago and maintained my certifications. Frick is the Captain, he worked at K-zen radio as the Chief Engineer there, Frack is the Chief Engineer, he being a top-rated mechanic despite losing a foot as a teenager, and Fred’s the First Mate, being the sexton at St. Isidore’s church in Columbus. Hope you don’t mind prayer meetings and Bible studies on Sundays.”

Fran shook her head. “No, I don’t mind. I confess to not being much of a churchgoer. My parents were. What can I do here?”

“Well, first, you and I are not only the two women aboard, we’re also the only two with hands. You said you know computers, right?” Freida asked.

“Oh, yes! I was in line to become head of the department, because I am up to date on all the latest programs.”

“Good! Frick is familiar, but not exactly current. There’s a computer system aboard this boat that can just about make biscuits on its own, and Frick has been pulling his mane out trying to understand everything. Right now, he’s upstairs trying to puzzle out the Iridium system. There are some other folk we’re trying to contact,” Freida said before outlining what they knew about the WSU, and what the Foursome’s plans for the future are.

Fran finished her soup. “All the way to Rotterdam? You think this boat will make it there?” she asked.

“Heavens, no!” Freida laughed. “We’re planning on going downstream all the way to New Orleans, canal to Lake Pontchartrain, and sail along the coast to Florida before taking to land to hook up with some other folk in Georgia. We’ll let the WSU take us to Europe.”

“Ambitious plans. How do you plan on getting the boat into the Platte River?”

“Frick has a plan. Blasting, if he can find the dynamite. He can clear out the rubble and we can sail on through.”

“I know where some dynamite is at. The Howlands have some. I just hope it’s still good,” Fran told Freida.

When Fran was asked if she wanted dinner in the cabin or upstairs, she chose to come up. Picking the driest of her sweats and socks, she put them on and headed up to the saloon, only whacking her head once. There, she met the three stallions, all three of whom barely came up to her chest. The three, along with Freida, gently quizzed her on what she knew and what she could do. She quickly figured out who was who, Frick being the one with the purple mane and the horn, Frack has the golden mane and wings, and Fred has the black mane and all the gravitas of a preacher. They were all kind and polite to her, but she knew she was at the bottom of the social ladder and quickly figured out how not to offend the others.

After dinner, Frick brought Fran to the cockpit to teach her what he had learned about the computer system so far while Frack and Fred used the fuel filter to refill the generator tank. She proved adept at learning the system, and began showing Frick some things he had missed, like the water maker, dishwasher and the washer/dryer combo unit.

“How could I have missed those?” Frick asked.

“You didn’t look past the first page of the specifications, sir,” Fran said before showing him what she did to find the specs.

“Huh,” Frick grunted. “I know my way around computers and such, but this stuff is cutting edge. My last computer class was six years ago. K-zen was not exactly modern.”

“Not to worry, sir. I got my degree three years ago and have been in the field since. You mentioned something about hooking up with Iridium?” Fran asked.

“I picked up some phones earlier, and they are charging now. I’ve glanced at the instructions for connecting to Iridium, and I can’t make heads or tails of it,” Frick snorted, his purple tail twitching in annoyment.

Fran grinned. “I do, and this little boat already has Iridium access as well as a high-end computer already installed,” she said, pulling up some instructions, before keying in a command. A monitor rose up from the port side of the control deck, along with a keyboard and trackball.

“How in perdition’s name did you find that?” Frick exclaimed.

Fran pointed to the display on the right side of the main console. “Over here, where it’s password protected. I just took a Cornhusker guess and figured the initial passcode has to be something simple, before the end user puts in their own. I remember seeing this being delivered yesterday. Er, back in May…” she said, trailing off.

“You want to know what today is?” Frick asked.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Today is the twenty-eighth of December, twenty-fifteen. Fred found a battery-powered clock at Saint Izzy’s that hadn’t stopped. We figure we arrived about the eighteenth, and found here on Christmas Eve. Moved in that night before the first storm hit, then this other one hit yesterday, dropping a good foot and a half atop the six to eight that was already there,” Frick explained.

“That’s why you took the Culbertson’s sleigh, right?”

“Yep. Too deep for the golf cart, so we improvised. It worked. Finding you on our doorstep was a surprise. Glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, sir,” Fran said as she got the computer up and running. “What do you want to use as a pass code?”

“Three-six-eight-three. It’s what I used on my home computer. Think you can access Iridium on this?” Frick asked.

“I can find out. Can you give me a half-hour or so to explore the system?” Fran asked in return.

Frick waffled for a few seconds before sighing. “Go right ahead, Fran. I trust you. WE trust you. If you’re good enough to figure it out, I’m sure you can teach us what we need to know.”

Frick went to the saloon for some coffee, letting Fran look around the onboard cyber system. “What’s bothering you, Frick?” Freida asked.

Frick had some coffee. “Fran is a true godsend. She’s found a few things on this boat that I didn’t know was there, like a dishwasher, washer/dryer, and a water-making unit. I feel so incompetent right now,” he said, sounding and feeling sad.

“Oh, nonsense, Frick!” Freida snapped. “Just because her learning is more current does not make you incompetent! You are doing a fine job as our Captain, and I expect you to keep doing so! She is part of our crew. Call her our Technical Officer if you need to, and take the time to learn from her!”

Frick wilted a little under the vehemence of Freida’s words. “You really mean that, Freida?” he said incredulously.

“Of course I do! Who led us down here to the Deliverance? You did! Now enough of that spinelessness of yours and act like a true leader! You can do it!” Freida said, waving a talon under Frick’s nose.

Frick let out a sigh. “I’ll do what I can, Freida. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I can’t change on a dime. Want to help me become what you claim I can be?” he asked.

“Of course! We all will. Now, why don’t you put some music on? You did grab some flash drives from the station, yes?”

“I did, Freida. I’ll see what I can do from down here. I may have to go downstairs and use that stereo,” Frick said, a little light coming to his eyes.

“Then, do it. Quiet is bothersome,” Freida said quietly, smoothing Frick’s mane, which didn’t help at all, it just sprang back to being frizzy. “Next trip into town, I’m going to get some trimmers from Walgreens. You need a haircut.”

“I agree. It won’t comb down, no matter how hard I try. Somehow, I don’t think Vitalis will work,” Frick said before heading downstairs. Five minutes later, The Statler Brothers started playing from the speakers.

Twenty minutes later, Frick came back up. “Did you find anything?” he asked Fran.

“Quite a bit. I’ve found there is a bit of an internet left. The antenna works, and I’ve plugged in. I’ve found some listings for the WSU. Is that the group you’re looking for?” she asked.

“That’s the group. What else did you find?”

“I’ve found emails and phone numbers for someone in Africa, one in Australia, Brazil, Mexico, Georgia, Havana and Ireland. Want me to send emails out announcing our presence?”

“You do that, Technical Officer. Now, how about the satphone system?”

“I’ve called the WSU, but no answer. I’m not surprised. It’s probably two in the morning there. I think with this offset in time, it’s not going to be easy to call this WSU unless we call first thing in the morning, or stay up real late to catch someone in the office,” Fran reported.

“I didn’t think of that. You’re right, they are about six or seven hours ahead of us. Are they still on the air?”

“Yes, but I think it’s all podcasts right now. I’m going to have to listen for a while to figure out their schedule,” Fran said, looking her captain in the eye. Or in her case, looking down into his eyes.

“Show me how to operate the Iridium and transmitter links, please. I’ll set my alarm for three and try to give them a call. I think it’s important to contact them,” Frick said, trying to be a little more optimistic.

“Of course, Captain,” Fran said before walking Frick through the procedure. Frick is NOT stupid, just uneducated. He rapidly picked up on how to handle the radio and computer on the boat, and sent the WSU an email saying when he planned to call, checking to see what the time difference is between Nebraska and Rotterdam. (seven hours, for those who are interested)

Frick never set his alarm, because he didn’t go to bed. Everyone else went to bed by nine, but he stayed up, looking through the computer, what Internet remained, and loading some of his music drives, waiting for a response to his email.

At twenty minutes until one, the computer pinged to announce an incoming email. It was from the WSU, saying that they had received the email, and asked for a contact number, while giving theirs. Despite his fatigue, he answered promptly, saying he was awake and sitting by his phone, ready and willing to chat. Not a minute after he sent the email, the phone rang. Problem was, it rings with a squealing noise loud enough to be heard five houses down. Frick literally bounced off the overhead and fumbled around a bit before answering the call, during which the phone rang twice more. “Yes? Hello? Who this?” he groaned, his head starting to pound.

“Mister Larsen? This is Sandra, the radio operator for WSU. I got your message, and would like to hear your story. Are you all right?” he heard over the loudspeaker, a heavily accented voice that he quickly recognized as that of ‘DJ WSU’ from all the podcasts.

“Yes, this is Freidrick Larsen. Call me Frick. Been using that for years. I would be all right, seeing as it’s quarter till one, but I just found out the phone ring tone is set for ‘earthquake’, and I bounced off the ceiling here. Just gimme a minute, please,” he managed to say before turning around. Fred and Freida were there, Freida looking concerned, Fred his usual stoic self.

“Let me do the talking, Frick. You look like if I asked you which way is up, you would give the wrong answer. Let Freida check you over,” Fred suggested.

Frick took the hint. “Sandra, I’m going to turn you over to my First Mate, Fred Halvorsen. I’ll let him do the talking. He’s better at it than I am.”

“Okay, Mister Larsen. I’ll listen to anyone. New groups don’t come up often, and we like to get your stories,” Sandra told the group.

Frick and Fred swapped places at the helm, Frick showing Fred where the phone controls are before stumbling to the saloon, where Freida sat him on the settee and started checking him over.

Fred patiently told the story of the Fearsome Foursome, now the Fearsome Fivesome, from their first arrival, the several days of rough coping before they got organized, deciding to go downstream after hearing one of their broadcasts about needing people in Rotterdam.

“Just where are you now, Mister Halvorsen?” Sandra asked.

“Outside of Fremont, Nebraska, on a luxury trawler bought by someone with more money than sense. We’re going to have to find about five hundred gallons of diesel to fill the tanks, after we clean it up. Good thing Frack is a senior mechanic. He stumbled onto the problem and came up with an adequate fix for now. Oh, please, call me Fred. Frick’s the captain, I’m the First Mate, Frack is the Chief Engineer, my lovely wife Freida is Purser and Medical Officer, and our new arrival Fran is the Tech Officer. Formality has its uses. Not here, not now.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Fred. Now, let me ask who is what. What kind of pony is everyone? You’re American, I figure you’re mostly ponies then?”

“Frick is a unicorn, Frack is a pegasus, I’m a plain pony, Freida’s a griffin and Fran is a tall, thin cat. Frick can do things with the glow from his horn, Frack and Freida can fly, I know I’m a bit stronger than I was, and we don’t know much about Fran yet, other than she’s a lot taller than before in some ways, and a lot smaller in other ways. What else do you want to know, Sandra?”

“Abyssinian, the word you’re looking for to describe your friend Fran is Abyssinian. If you’ve heard Lekan on my podcasts, she’s one as well. I can hook her up if she needs tips. Anyway...What did you do before the Event?” The DJ inquired, accompanied by a sound that definitely was a notepad being pulled out.

“Abyssinian, right. Long way from Abyssinia. Okay, Frick was the Chief Engineer for KZEN radio in Columbus, Nebraska; Frack was a senior mechanic at Can-Do Auto Service, despite having a foot cut off when he was fourteen; my wife Freida was Chief Librarian at the Columbus Library, I was the sexton at St. Isidore’s Church, while Fran, all I can say she worked at the University. She just arrived this past afternoon, and I don’t know much about her yet. If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have found out about the fancy computer system aboard Deliverance here. She’s one smart cat, for sure!” Fred explained.

“Given the timing, I figure your calling us is related to our broadcast about Rotterdam, right? We certainly could use the help over here, but it’s a trip. What are your plans currently? Already have an idea how to get it done?”

“Our plans, once we get out of this lake, is to set sail going downriver, taking the Platte River to the Missouri, that to the Mississippi, past New Orleans to follow the Gulf coast to Florida to head to the colony in Georgia. We’re going to have to abandon Deliverance in Florida, because it’s faster to cut across Florida than to sail around it.”

“Mind if I offer a suggestion, Fred?”

“By all means, Miss Sandra. We’re open to new ideas.”

“Danke, ahem,let me check my charts. I’m no sailor, can’t recall landmarks off the top of my head.Take it for what it’s worth, but Georgia isn’t your only option. If you head south of Key West from Florida, we have another colony in Havana. Just consider the option, because truth be told, Georgia is more of a trade post, whereas Cuba… it’s got a lot more folks, it’s got a sea fort so it’s safer, and given it’s profiling to be a regional hub, it’s more likely you’ll encounter a ship on a cross-Atlantic passage sooner. Just my piece of advice, there * is * a language barrier to account for after all.” Sandra suggested cheerfully.

“Language shouldn’t be much of an issue. We each know one language fluently. I read Latin, Freida Spanish, Frick French and Frack German. Frick’s been fillin’ our heads about you WSU folks for several days now. Ever since your broadcast last week explaining about how you need skilled folk in Rotterdam. I admit to having been skeptical, but now that I spoke to you, I have more faith in what Frick said.”

Fred stopped for a sip of coffee before continuing. “I will be sure to do my best to convince Frick about heading to Havana. Thing is, none of us have done any deep-water sailing. We plan on hugging the coast, but that last step is rather daunting. Think we can arrange for a pilot for that last step?” he asked.

“I can’t promise for sure, Fred, but I can bring it up with Command. Officers and Pilots are hard to come by, and getting one over to you... ” Sandra paused for emphasis. “I can’t guarantee that. But we have time, and one thing I can guarantee is we have plenty enough resources and intel to prepare you a voyage plan waypoint to waypoint all the way to your destination. Is that something you could use?”

“That we do, Miss Sandra. It’s not even January yet, and we got us a long way to go before we get out of the rivers to the ocean, and then a long ways after that.

“Tell you what, it’s past one in the morning here, and we done had us a real busy day. What time are you live in studio? Maybe we can talk better when everyone’s awake, get to know the five of us, and learn more about each other then?” Fred requested.

“I’m usually live on air here in studio, standard eight-to-five day, which for you is… one in the morning to ten in the morning. We can always arrange alternate times, if I know you will be there,” Sandra told Fred.

“Well, we’re up with the sun, most often, and tend to go to bed about nine or so at night. How about we send you an email once we’re all awake and ready to talk, and you can get each one of us down on tape for later rebroadcast?” Fred suggested.

“I can testify my listeners * love * to hear any new tale about returnees all over the world, Fred. A recording is never something I would refuse.” Sandra replied cheerfully before coughing into her mic, signalling a change of tone. “There is a but. Understand, we’ve had incidents with bandits and whatnot. In America too. I’ll leave the choice up to your team, because it’s you that would be at risk, but be careful as to how much you tell us. One the one hoof, you broadcast your location and coordinates, you might encounter helpful souls, and the majority of souls are * begging * to meet new people in the flesh with so few of us around. On the other hoof…” She paused. “Bandits. Demons. Monsters. It’s a dangerous world, understand?”

Fred let out a deep yawn before replying. “I’m sure that will be a good thing, Miss Sandra. Right now, it’s time for us to get back to bed. We have to reset that ring tone from boat-shaking to a mere annoyance. It’s been a pleasure, and let’s do this again when the sun comes up. Okay?”

“Alright, I’ll take note of that. In the meantime, before I call back and we get done with this recording, I’ll pass the word around. Stay connected to Iridium and expect a mailbox avalanche this afternoon, I have to pass you… hold on...” Sandra paused, looking around her desk as shuffling was heard over the microphone. “Racial guide on the species you’ve become, a few contacts among ponies, griffons and Abyssinians to give you the pointers on how to take care of yourselves, a couple pdf’s on magic, a bestiary, basic potions manual if you can find the ingredients and… ah yes, I’ll pass you on to Alejandro at the Admiralty. He’ll have a few questions on your ship, but he should be able to draft a passage plan in short order. That… ought to do it for now. Hear you in six-to-seven hours, and stay safe out there. DJ WSU… out.”

“And you have a good day, little lady. May God bless us all. Deliverance, signing off,” Fred said before shutting off the phone. Turning around, he saw Freida in the galley, holding out a cup of something steaming. “That better be chamomile, Maw.”

“Chamomile and lavender, Paw. I made sure to grab some while in town. Just a box, but you don’t need it often. Have some, then let’s go back to sleep,” Freida suggested as Fred got out of the pilothouse and into the saloon.

“You know me so well, Maw,” Fred said to his wife as he took the cup and sipped. “How’s Frick?”

“He’s got a lump on his head half the size of a hen’s egg. I gave him a Goody’s in some water and put him to bed. Frack slept through the whole thing. Fran woke and helped me get Frick downstairs. She said she’ll wait there until we head back to bed, and if she’s still awake, she’ll come up and fiddle with the computer some more. Tomorrow, I’ll see about making, and finding, some clothes for her that will fit. I’ll fly to town and get some better fabric than canvas,” Frieda said as she sat down next to Fred, one arm around him. A lifetime together, and they love each other just as intensely as the first day they met.

“...and that’s the story, listeners! A new group Returned in Nebraska, and they will be heading downriver to New Orleans and out. I will tell more about them as details come in, because I talked to them in the middle of the night there. I talked to them again a couple of hours ago, but I have yet to edit down what they said into a good podcast. I’m about ready to sign off for the evening here, so expect our regular nighttime broadcasts, an hour of podcasts, an hour of music. Until the morning, this is DJ WSU on WSU Radio, signing off. Whatever your timezone be, have a nice day, everybody!”

Caleb turned the radio down. “We have to warn them,” he said to his friend and companion, Landry.

“That we do. We’re going to have to head upriver quite a ways, while avoiding her minions,” Landry the breezie squeaked. “Find a boat?”

“That will work until we get to the Old River. After that, we find a car. Natchez should be far enough north,” Caleb said as he thought out loud.

“Yes. She doesn’t bother us much, because we were born and raised here, and if we leave each other alone, we should be fine. She HATES trespassers, and that’s what they are, to her,” Landry observed.

“I’ll start packing,” Caleb said, getting up from the makeshift bed in the tumbledown shack that was on the property they once called home.

Lexington turned off the radio when a lecture came on, one he had heard before. Breaking out a map, he checked where the rivers are relative to his location. “Good. They won’t come anywhere near close enough to possibly notice us,” he said quietly to the little brown and grey mouse sitting on the radio. “Although we CAN use some help scavenging fuel, but the river’s too far off. Best we stay hidden and do the best we can with what we got, right? If they’re headed for Georgia, they might get in contact with the HPI, and we can’t have knowledge of us spread around, can we?”

The little mouse nodded gravely at Lexington’s words before hopping off the radio and scampering to Lexington’s unwounded hand for a little petting, which he got.

“Coming down the river, eh? Let’s hope they’re friendly,” the dark orange pegasus said as she turned off the radio.

“They won’t be down here for some time yet,” the blue-green unicorn replied. “I can set a spirit fence upstream a few miles, and let Raven decide if they should pass or not.”

“We could do with some fresh faces, even if only for a few days. Maybe one would like to stay,” the pegasus countered.

“There’s only ten of us here in the city, and we’re all working our hooves, horns, paws, wings and whatnot down to the nubs just trying for some sort of comfort here. Five more will be a bit of a strain.”

“How about we offer them a fill-up for their boat, spend a couple of days visiting, then send them on their way? They do want to go to Europe, not here,” the pegasus said, trying to get some sort of concession from the stubborn unicorn, who was also their shaman. “Ask Raven before they get here. We’ll see what the old trickster has to say.”

“I can do that.”

At breakfast the next morning, Frack came to a dead stop, half a waffle still on his fork. He looked hard at his brother. “Who says I’m dumb?” he demanded.

“Frack, stop that nonsense and finish your breakfast! We have work to do today!” Freida snapped at the pegasus, who immediately simmered down some and finished the waffle.

“Yes, Freida,” Frack sighed.

Author's Note

Okay, a few notes here.
1) Thanks to Harts Fire for technical advice. I don't know diddly-squat about bad fuels.
2) My target for this story is one 7k or so chapter every two weeks. That depends on inspiration, dedication, perspiration, 2% butterscotch ripple, and most important, my heart. Covid did a number to it months back, and I'm just now getting back to writing. Fatigue, exhaustion, shortness of breath and chest pain is a bitch to have to live with.
3) you all got lucky this week, I getting to post a chapter a week early. Enjoy the present, pones.
4) Thanks also to Merchant Mariner, who is my editor on this story, a bit of role reversal. He knows more about the ~~WSC~~ than I do. Er, make that WSU. I always get that mixed up...
5) Back in a week or two. One constant is posting on Thursdays. Why then? No reason at all. It was just the day the first chapter was ready, is all.
6) There IS no Rule Number Six!
7) No, Doomsday Desmond will not make an appearance down here in the notes. I made sure of that. as some muffled grunts and thumps come from a nearby broom closet...
8) Enjoy!
9) gets hooked by Morris, the producer, before he could finish...

Chapter 3: We gotta get out of this place, but how?

Twenty-ninth of December, early morning, after a nice hot breakfast, each of the Fearsome Foursome (plus one) had a ten-minute private interview with DJ WSU, followed by a group chat before hanging up and getting down to business. Business that day is a trip to town for more supplies. Fran needed warm clothing that would fit her, and her experiment with boots and socks the day before having proven to be an abject failure, snow getting down to her toes immediately and causing her feet to get very cold. She decided to stay aboard while the others went to Fremont to scavenge. She got the boat radio tuned to the same frequency as the group’s radios, and they set off, Frick and Fred with the sleigh, Frack and Freida aloft.

During their search through town, Frick and Fred found something of use, but awkwardly so. They found several large tanks of diesel fuel at the train yard. “You know, if we can get one of these trains down to the river, we can pump a tank dry, run it through the filter, and fill up the boat’s tanks,” Frick observed. “There’s some trouble with that, though.”

“Yep. Howinhell are we going to get a train locomotive down the tracks to the river?” Fred mock-asked, knowing the answer.

“Right now, we can’t. Even if we tried pumping the fuel into a tank car, we still can’t pull it down the tracks. If there were ten of you, maybe,” Frick sighed.

“Maybe we can find a semi with fuel in the tanks, get the thing running, and drive it down to the boat?” Fred suggested.

Frick blinked three times before speaking. “Fred, if anyone but you would have said that, I would have laughed in their face. You, being who you are, actually makes something like that seem practical. The only thing we have to hope for is the engine to last long enough to get to the boat.”

“I do have ideas every now and again, Frick. Now, let’s find us a semi with big enough tanks,” Fred replied laconically.

Frick put the call out over the radio to begin hunting for a semi. Fran was the first to call back. “Captain, there should be one down on Lake Shore Drive, about a quarter-mile south-east of where we are. Couldn’t hurt to look,” she said.

“How would you know one could be there, Fran?” Frick asked.

Fran answered with a laugh. “When your mother has been board president of the HOA for the past fifteen years, you get to know everybody in the development, Captain. I figure it’s worth a look. If not, we can go back to your idea.”

“Sounds good to me, Fran. How goes the salvage work?” Frick asked the others.

“I’ve found all I’ve been looking for, Frick,” Freida called in. “Should have enough to make something warm for Fran, and some sort of booties for the rest of us.”

“Okay, then. Can you get your load to the pick-up point?”

“Waiting on you, Frick. You and Fred get your tails down here!”

“On our way, Freida,” Frick said before letting go of the mic switch. “You heard her, Fred. Just how do you manage living with her?”

“Simple enough. I let her make all the inside-the-house decisions. She’s usually right, and I don’t have to worry about it. Gets the job done, yes?” Fred said quietly as he turned the sleigh around to head to the pick-up point.

After returning to the Deliverance and offloading the sleigh, Frick and Frack headed out to find the semi supposedly there at the other end of the lake. There, the duo was faced with a good news/bad news situation. The truck was there, tanks full of fuel, ready to go on a set of slightly-soft tires. That was the good news. The bad news is that they didn’t have the keys, and they would have to hot-wire the truck.

Good news- Frack knew how to do it.
Bad news- Frick did not.
Good news- Frack could teach.
Bad news- battery was dead.
Good news- they had a spare Die-Hard, unused, at the boat.
Bad news- they had to go get it, and jumper cables.
Good news- they had a trail to follow through the deep snow.
Bad news- It was a long slog back and forth again for Frick.
Good news- their efforts paid off, and they got the truck started.
Bad news- Frick had no clue as to how to drive a truck like that.
Good news- Frack did.
Bad news- the truck was stuck.
Good news- Frick managed to clear the snow and ice from the tires.
Gooder news- Frack got the truck moving.
Badder news- he wouldn’t stop rolling the truck until he got back to the Deliverance, so Frick had to walk back.
Good news- the truck blazed an easy-to-walk trail in the snow-covered street.
Bad news- they had to park about fifty feet away from the boat dock.
Good news- the drive had warmed up the fuel enough to make it easier to pump.
Bad news- hooking up the hose to the purifier caused a bit of spillage. Just a bit. Enough to soak Frick’s mane.
Good news- it held Frick’s frizzy mane down.
Bad news- I think you get the point by now, yes?

Frack got the purifier going, sending clean, stabilized fuel into the number-one tank while Frick went inside to make use of the shower stall to get rid of the diesel fuel. To his good fortune, no one said a word as he went downstairs. It was after they heard the water flowing before the three up in the saloon/control area started to talk.

“Does the Captain normally look like that after work?” Fran asked.

“Frack must have got a good one in on him,” Freida said from the galley, where she was making supper.

Fred got up from where he was sitting, putting his Bible away. “I’ll go help Frack run the purifier. Sure as shooting he’s going to need more filter material,” he said quietly.

“You do that, Paw. Tell him he can either have hot coffee or cold VC, he’ll just have to come in and get it,” Freida told him as he quickly slipped out the back door.

“Will do, Maw.”

“How long will it take to fill the tanks, Freida?” Fran asked.

Freida thought for a few seconds before replying. “If filling the day tank was any indication, I’m going to be conservative and say the day after tomorrow.”

“Next question, how are we going to sail out of the lake? The bridge is far too low!” Fran protested.

“Like Frick said, if we can find the dynamite, we’ll blast. If not, we’ll think of something,” Freida said confidently.

“I admire your faith, Freida. Right now, I feel that we CAN, it’s the HOW that’s escaping me,” Fran replied.

“How’s the research on the data package going?”

“I’ve just skimmed through the packages so far. There’s a lot to read. Remember during the interviews how DJ kept on referring to ‘magic’?”

“Yes. What about it?” Freida asked as she took bread out of the oven and put a casserole in.

“It’s no buzzword. It’s as real as a hit by a Cornhusker defensive tackle. The Captain has the most magic of us all. He can, with study and learning, use his purple glow for more than just moving things with like a spare pair of hands. One of the books is like a primary school book for magic use,” Fran told the griffin. “Can you pass me a cup of tea?”

“Orange zinger?” Freida asked as she opened the tea container.

“Please,” Fran replied as Frack opened the back door long enough to reach inside, snag a can of Vanilla Coke from the fridge, and duck back out before the heat escaped.

“Fortunately, Frick does learn fast. He just has all the self-confidence of Henry Blake from MASH. Been like that since he was a kid. Very good in his field, but reluctant to stick his nose out into other things,” Freida explained as she passed the cup up.

“I’ve also heard Frack lost a foot as a kid. Obviously, he has all four feet, er, hooves, now. What happened to him?”

“He and Frick were out riding their bikes one day. Frick was eighteen, Frack thirteen. Somebody clipped Frack’s bike, which eventually led to his getting his left foot amputated just above the ankle,” Freida explained as she set up the rolls. “He took to the prosthetic readily. Didn’t slow him down much. He did get into auto mechanics shortly after, learning fast and getting his degree in mechanical engineering at the University. When they changed into ponies, and he got his foot back, and the wings, he took to it immediately, flying the first chance he could. He got his sparkle back, and we all could not be happier.”

“Got that right,” Frick said, coming up the steps from below. “Got anything hot and ready, Freida?”

“Instant coffee in ten seconds, tea in a minute, or hot coffee in ten minutes. Your choice, Frick.”

“Instant, two sugars and creamer, please,” Frick requested as he sat on the settee.

Freida had the steaming cup in front of Frick within the promised ten seconds. “Good thing I know you so well, Frick.”

“That you do, Freida,” Frick said before sipping.

“Captain, may I ask you a question?” Fran asked from the conn.

Frick looked up at Fran. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Just how do you plan to get us into the river?”

“You did say you knew where some dynamite should be, yes?”

“I do, but what if it’s not enough?”

“I’ll tear down that bridge when we come to it, Fran. Have you looked at the information the WSU sent us?” Frick asked.

“Just skimming it, Captain. I have charged the tablets and laptops and put them into the wi-fi network. I put the best laptop and a tablet on your bed. Everything is in the General Access folder, with tags to indicate who should read what first. You’re number one, Captain,” Fran reported.

“Thank you, Fran. I think I’ll head down and start reading. Let me know when dinner is ready,” Frick said before finishing his coffee and passing the cup back to Freida. “I’ll snag one of Frack’s cokes for my reading,” which he did as he passed the refrigerator.

Once Frick was out of earshot, Fran said, “I see what you mean about Henry Blake.”

“Don’t sweat it. We look out for each other. Been doing so all our lives.”

Over dinner, Frick asked about the ship’s status. Frack was the first to report. “Fueling is proceeding normally. I’ll shut it down in about an hour and resume in the morning. We can fill one tank and part of another, plus the day tank. We’re going through filters a bit faster than I thought, but I’d much rather change the filters more often than tear into one of the Cummins while in the river.”

“How much is in the truck, bro?”

“A bit more than three hundred gallons, best bet. Tomorrow, before supper, I’ll fire up the main engines and check them out. Got a plan on getting us out of here?” Frack asked.

“Yes. Tomorrow early, Fran and I will go out to find the dynamite, set it in place, and fire it. I just hope we find enough to blow a big enough hole in the bridge. I don’t want to have a big chunk rip the hull.”

“Freida, will you have some footwear for me by then?” Fran asked.

“Yes, definitely waterproofed and warm. I should have something for you as well, Frick. The rest of us, I’ll work on that tomorrow,” Freida told the group.

“Sounds like a plan, Freida. Everyone, tonight, look through the data that is on your laptops or tablets. Anything with a number one is for me, number two for Fred, number three for Frack, number four for Freida, and number five is Fran. The numbers do NOT mean the data is secret for just that one, but it shows the degree of relevancy to each of you. Read your own first, then the others,” Frick advised between bites.

“So, what’s labeled as number two pertains to me as an earth pony, right?” Fred asked, having learned the term from the morning’s interviews with DJ WSU.

Frick nodded. “That’s right, Fred. Everyone is free to look at the data in the general file. Personal files, that’s up to you to decide if you want to share or not. Right now, there is nothing in the personal files yet. I urge you all to set up files and passwords. I refuse to snoop in someone’s personal stuff. I’m not that sort of person,” he told the group.

“We know that, bro. It’s what we have been living with for years now,” Frack said.

“I know that, you know that, but Fran doesn’t yet. Just trying to reassure her that privacy means a lot to us, even life-long friends.”

“I can understand that, Captain, and appreciate the thoughts. It’s good to know I’ve fallen in with a good bunch of people. I’ve been scanning the records, and there are a lot of not-nice beings out there. Yes, even here in the United States. Nasty bunch in Savannah. Not any more, though,” Fran told the table.

Fred looked over at Fran, who was sitting next to Freida. “I’d like to see the historical records. Always nice to learn it, especially since we don’t get the nightly news any more. There’s a big gap we have to fill,” he said in his preaching tones.

“I can walk you through them tonight, Fred. I’ll show you where they are, and you can read at your leisure,” Fran told Fred. “It’s fascinating reading. I won’t spoil the surprise any more, okay?”

“Smart move, Fran. I’m liking you more every hour. Welcome to the crew.”

“Crew, hell! Welcome to our FAMILY, Fran!” Frack said with enthusiasm.

Fran blushed some at the compliment, her ears pinking up some. The others also lent their support. “Thank you all so very much for accepting me. My old family is near and dear to my heart, but they are not here. You are. Thank you,” she managed to say, voice cracking a bit.

“You’re welcome. Now, finish dinner before it gets cold,” Freida advised.

After breakfast, Fred and Frack went out to restart the fueling, while Frick and Fran went dynamite hunting. Frick figured out a way to use his magic to break a trail through the snow, so he wouldn’t have to slog through it. The Howland house turned out to be the last house on a side street that went into the lake, a position that was conveniently close to the bridge they needed to blow up, if they used a boat. If not, it was a bit of a hike.

Getting into the house was simple enough for Frick. He had done some reading on magic the night before, and he discovered that opening simple door locks without a key only took a few seconds of focus to decipher and open, a bit more for the heavier bolt locks. Fran led Frick to the basement, where Mister Howland kept his workshop and armory.

“There has to be at least twenty pounds of dynamite here!” he exclaimed after finding the boxes.

“More like forty, Frick. He also keeps firearms and ammo here, in that gun locker,” Fran told him, pointing to the large gun cabinet. “More than likely the detonators are there, too. You could call him a sane paranoid. He liked his weapons near, but he was very sensible about it. He taught firearms safety for years.”

“Ever take his course?” Frick asked as he used his magic to figure out the gun cabinet lock, which was a bit more secure. It had a keypad on it, and the battery was still active.

“More than once, Captain. Basics when I was ten, and several more advanced courses as I grew up. He taught me that a shotgun can be used for more than shooting. Combination is four two two one nine,” Fran said absently.

“How do you know that?” Frick asked as he keyed in the combination, hearing the bolts holding the door shut retract.

“It’s his father’s birthday. He told me that years ago, so he could not forget it. It slipped his mind that I could look that up, and did. It’s in the HOA records,” Fran told her captain as she reached over and opened the door, the handle more suited to her hand than Frick’s hoof. “Let’s see… shotguns, two pistols, ammo boxes, shotgun shells, ah! Detonators!” Fran said triumphantly as she picked up a box from a lower shelf.

“Next question, Fran. Do you know how to use those detonators and weapons?” Frick asked.

“Weapons, yes. Detonators, no. Never had to blast before.”

“Fortunately, I do.” Frick took the detonator box in his magic and opened it. “Good. I’ve used this before. I can set the explosives on the bottom of the bridge, get clear, and use this remote trigger to set them off.”

“How do you propose to set them in place, Captain?” Fran asked, more than a little confused.

Frick used his horn to point at something on the workbench. “Gorilla tape. Should hold long enough to get clear and trigger the blast. Now, to find a rowboat.”

“That’s not hard to do, Captain. Let’s get the stuff outside first. Want me to take the weapons as well?” she asked.

“Not now. We’ll come back for them after we blow the bridge.”

“Good enough for me, Captain.”

The pair took the dynamite and detonators outside before hunting up a rowboat, which they found next door. Oars took a little longer to find, but soon the two were in the lake, Fran rowing, Frick helping with a paddle. There was some ice on the shore, but it was thin and the rest of the lake was clear. It took the two less than an hour to plant the explosives in the way Frick wanted them, along the main stringers in the middle, and at expansion joints closest to the center of the bridge. “Okay, set. Water’s deep enough here and out into the Platte for the boat. Let’s just hope we have enough dynamite for the job,” Frick muttered once he was happy with the placement. “Let’s get clear.”

“Right, Captain,” Fran said as she turned the rowboat around and started rowing, Frick helping with his paddle. A few minutes of steady effort got them to an island in the lake with no houses on it.

“This should be far enough, Fran,” Frick said, picking up the detonator.

“Just a little farther, Captain. I got a feeling,” Fran puffed as she rowed a little harder.

“What sort of feeling?” Frick asked as he pushed the button on the detonator.

“We’ll need the distance,” she said as the light on the detonator blinked, but nothing happened.

“What the?” Frick exclaimed as he pushed the button again. “Where’s my kaboom? I know I set them right!” He tried again, with the same results. “Bomb number twenty, I said drop! Drop! Drop! Drop!” he shouted in frustration, a purple nimbus forming around his horn.

“Easy, Sergeant Pinback. Don’t get mad about it. Take a deep breath…” Fran counselled as Frick let out a frustrated yell.

When he did, a bright purple flash went from his horn to the bridge. The bridge went up in a purple flare with flames in it, a big cloud of smoke and debris rising up. The boom was followed by utter quiet, followed by the pitter-patter of debris falling onto the lake, houses, and them, as far away as they were from the blast.

The two sat in stunned silence until the debris stopped falling and the smoke cleared, revealing a nicely cut gap in the bridge, like it was cut by a knife. No jagged edges, no chunks showing. “Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?” Fran said quietly.

“What in thunderation was that?” Frick managed to say, reaching back to absently rub his flank.

“One big kaboom, Captain. Now, what’s that?” Fran asked, pointing at Frick’s rump.

Frick looked, to see what appeared to be two silver wires set in a narrow V formation, connected by three jagged yellow arcs, one above the other. “A Jacob’s ladder?” he said, amazed. Just then, the radio squawked.

“Frick, what in tarnation was that?” Fred asked. “You all right?”

“I will be, Fred. Tell you later. Bridge is open. Captain out,” he said hollowly before putting the radio down. “Back to the Howland house, Fran. Let’s get the guns and head home.”

“Will do, Captain,” Fran said as she started rowing.

They wound up deferring picking up the guns until the next day, because Frick fell asleep in the boat before they arrived at the Howland house. Fran called in the Captain’s condition and rowed back to the Deliverance. There, she and Freida got Frick aboard and to his bunk, after which Fran told the whole story to the rest of the crew while Freida wrapped her hands to ease the blisters that had formed from all the rowing.

“One thing you should do, Fran, is to send to the WSU an email describing what has happened and to ask for more data on these ‘cutie marks’. Frick got his, now what about the rest of us?” Fred both advised and asked.

Fran wiggled her fingers into some rubber gloves Freida had held up. “Okay, from what I know about them, only ponies get them, and it reflects something about the pony. In Frick’s case, it’s like he has something to do with power of some sort, and I’m not just talking electricity. That explosion was a lot larger than forty pounds of dynamite, and it was a lot more focused. The biggest chunk I saw was the size of a small pebble, plus the sides of the hole on the bridge are smooth,” she explained.

“This I gotta see!” Frack exclaimed, getting up. Fred waved his hoof, causing Frack to sit back down. Quickly.

“Frack, WE are going to go take a look at it, once we shut off the fuel purifier. I’m not going to let that run unattended,” Fred said firmly.

“Okay, then, we’ll go when we next have to change the filters. It’s slow, maybe fifteen gallons an hour, but what’s coming out looks good. Truck’s almost empty. Even with taking a break to look at the bridge, we should be done by dark,” Frack said, his eagerness getting tamped down by some responsibility.

“I don’t know why they say you’re dumb, Frack. You just need to think a bit ahead before you do something,” Fred said in calm tones.

“I’ll try to remember that, Fred. Let me check on the purifier, okay?” Frack said getting up. This time, Fred did not stop him.

“Rather excitable, isn’t he?” Fran asked.

“He can be. He’s been like this since he was a toddler,” Freida told her as she brewed some tea.

Frack and Fred went down to look at the bridge. The gap in it was easily wide enough to allow the Deliverance through, and the water was visibly deep enough, all the way into the Platte.

Fred tapped the side of the blast cut with a hoof. “Looks like it was cut with a laser knife or a hydro knife. This sure doesn’t look like a dynamite blast to me.”

“Nor to me,” Frack agreed. “Whatever big bro did, I’d hate to be on the receiving end!”

“I’m going to have to agree with you, Frack. This is truly God’s gift to him, to enable us to head to civilization. Going to Havana still makes me nervous, though,” Fred mused.

“What for, Fred?”

“The ocean crossing. A hundred miles, out of the sight of land. None of us are real navigators. Sure, we got the electronic stuff, but is it accurate? Does it work? None of us has ever sailed out of sight of land, just on lakes and rivers. THAT’S what worries me,” Fred said honestly.

Frack let out a sharp, loud laugh. “Is THAT all, Fred? Hell, for all we know, it’s going to be summer before we even get down there! We have the time to learn, right? So, let’s ALL of us learn how to navigate!”

Fred looked at Frack, thinking. “You know, Frack, that’s a point I didn’t think about. We DO have time, and ain’t none of us stupid. We all can work computers, some of us easier than others, right?” he said, a little more eagerness creeping into his voice.

“Got that right! I don’t know about you, but my feathers don’t work too well on a keyboard or a tablet, and using a stylus or pen is a lot slower than using fingers. C’mon, race you back!” Frack said cheerfully, playfully slapping Fred on the flank with a wing. “Tag! You’re it!”

Fred smiled at the tag. “It's gonna be that way, eh? You’re on!” he said before taking off at a gallop. Frack took wing, but didn’t try to crank on the speed.

The next morning, Frick woke up, none the worse from the blast. After breakfast, he sent an email to the WSU, telling about what had happened to him the day before. It wasn’t thirty seconds later when the phone rang. Fortunately, the ring tone and volume had been reset to something less than ear-shattering. “Deliverance. Captain Frick speaking. That you, Sandra?”

“It sure is, Frick! Just wanted to warn you, you need to read your book on unicorns and magic thoroughly! Mana surges are not unknown, but until you get better control of your magic, you run the risk of mana burnout. From what I heard, that’s uncomfortable. I want to see you in the flesh, not burnt out!”

“I’ll definitely do that, Sandra. I slept for a good fifteen hours, and I’m feeling much better now. Today’s the day we’re going to start the mains and start our voyage down the rivers and through the woods to become part of your team!” Frick said eagerly.

“Sounds good to me, Frick. It’s the last day of the year. You going to celebrate tonight?”

“Don’t plan on it. We’ll all have gone to bed by then, and it’s not the same without Dick Clark. Right now, I’m just wondering how far downstream we’re going to get today.”

“I’m no navigator, so I can’t even begin to guess. I told Alejandro to give you a call after New Years, to learn about your boat. You all be careful now! Happy New Year!” Sandra said before hanging up.

“And a Happy New Year to you and yours, too, Sandra,” Frick replied before disconnecting.

“New Years? Already?” Freida asked from the galley, where she was cleaning the breakfast dishes.

“Sure is, Maw. Maybe I should hang the clock up here in the saloon, so we can all tell what day it is. Dang it, I still have to look myself! Here I am, thinking it’s June, but with snow!” Fred said with a chuckle.

“I know the feeling, Fred. I think we all do,” Frick said to the group. “Think we’re ready to head out today?”

Freida was the first to say something. “I would like to spend one more day salvaging. Setting off on New Year’s Day sounds more fitting, too.”

Fran also jumped in. “We have to pick up the weapons from Mister Howland’s place. Grab all we can, and we need a secure place to put everything,” she observed.

Fred input “Tomorrow’s soon enough. We’re about two-thirds full of fuel now. Maybe we can find some more diesel in town and top off before we go.”

Frack spoke up next. “I do want to give the big diesels another going-over. Plus, we need to test them out, now that we got good fuel in it.” He went to say something else, but stopped and whacked himself in the head with a wing. “I KNEW I forgot something!”

“What you forget, bro?” Frick asked.

“We may have cleaned out the fuel in the tanks, but we never checked the motors to make sure THEY are fully cleaned out!” Frack exclaimed. “I want to make one more trip to the supply shop to get a bunch of spare engine filters and oil!”

Frick just nodded slowly. “Okay, then. Fred, you, Freida and Frack head to town for some more scavenging. Fran, you’re with me. We’ll get the guns from the Howland place, and if you know anyplace else, we’ll go there tomorrow. Frack, when you get back, check out the engines with a fine-tooth comb. If you say they are clean, power them up, shut down the generator and service it. When we head out tomorrow, there will be no turning back. Got it?” he said to the team.

Various versions of ‘You got it, Captain,” came back to him.

“Okay, then, let’s do this.”

That afternoon, everypony met back at the boat. Frack and Fred were going over the engines, Freida was keeping the hot food and drink ready, and Frick and Fran returned with a nice bundle of weapons and ammo in a wheelbarrow. Shotguns, three rifles, and six pistols, all with ammo. Frick decided to subdivide the fishing gear locker to use as a weapons safe. Pistols in a watertight container, ammo in several other containers, some of which he kept in other places on the boat, and the long arms would have to take their chances. They also had grabbed some cleaning kits. One of Frick’s jobs on the voyage would be servicing the guns.

“Frick, got you a present while in town,” Freida said after everyone gathered for supper.

“Oh? What?” Frick asked.

Freida opened a cabinet and pulled out a yacht captain’s hat, which she placed on Frick’s head. “A captain should look the part!” she proclaimed, to much cheering from the others.

“Thank you. I’m going to treasure this,” Frick said with a goofy grin on his face.

“Got some more good news, bro! Engines are ready to go!”

“Good to hear. How long to check out the generator?”

“About an hour, all told. If you help me, a lot less. Some of the pieces to swap out are not easy to reach with a hoof, y’know?” Frack replied with a toss of his head, making his mane fly about again.

“Okay, bro. You lead, I’ll do. First, time to test the engines. Want to be with me up in control, or back by them?”

“I’ll be on the back patio. If something looks off, shut down fast, got it?” Frack cautioned, now very inch the mechanic who knows what the hell he is doing.

“Got it.” Frick went up to control. Looking at the controls, he used his magic to flip the cover up on the switch labeled ‘Engine #1 Start’ and pushed the button. The right-side engine turned over, coughed twice, and then started purring like a diesel-powered cat. Checking the monitors, he saw everything spooling up normally, as far as he knew.

“Okay, bro, start number two!” Frack called from the back door, shutting it quickly. Frick did so, the engine coughing three times before catching and coming up to idle smoothly. Frick watched the indicators, comparing what he saw to what he read in the operator’s manual pdf file. All looked good.

Frack came up to the starboard side control space door and came in that way, instead of going through the saloon. He looked at the panels. “Looking good, bro! Now, switch the electrics to the alternators on the diesels and shut off the generator. Ten minutes for it to cool down, and we can get to work,” he said, approving of what he saw with a nod of his head.

“You got everything ready, bro?” Frick asked as he shut off the generator.

“All laid out by the generator. I’ll go out and make a little more room. Don’t be long!” Frack said with a laugh.

“I won’t.” He wasn’t. Ten minutes later, the brothers were by the generator, doing an inspection, which took twenty minutes to do with Frick’s telekinetic assistance.

“Better than I thought,” Frack observed. “Temperatures nominal, oil level is perfect, say what you want about the builders of this little boat, but they sure built to last!”

“That’s good to hear. Should we leave the generator off and run the boat from the batteries tonight?” Frick asked.

“Wouldn’t hurt. Just don’t use the stove or oven much. Batteries should hold up that long. Just make sure the batteries are fully charged before shutting off the mains.”

“They are. Been watching that since we got the generator started. Haven’t wanted to test out the battery life yet.”

“Okay, bro. Let’s clean up and turn in. I can do with a nap.” Frack said, stretching his wings out and yawning.

“Since when do you not?” Frack countered with.

New Years morning was cloudy with a bit of wind, but no snow and a touch warmer than before, meaning the temp outside was up to freezing, not knocking around Zero’s doorstep. Frick got the generator started without problems, and after breakfast, took Fred with him to do one last chore, that is to siphon the good gas out of Juliana’s engines. He didn’t want to, but he could use the gas.

Using his magic, the gasoline was soon removed from the two outboard motors and put into gas cans. “I’m going to miss this old girl. Had her for what, twenty-three years now?” Frick said wistfully, patting the deck with a hoof.

“Twenty-four come March. It was your fortieth birthday gift from the owners of KZEN, after you kept the station transmitting during the blizzard of 1990. You stayed at the transmitter for what, two days straight?” Fred asked.

“More like two and a half. I went to the transmitter because I didn’t like the weather forecast. Turns out I was right. Kept the generators going until the main power came back on. Had about half a day’s fuel left,” Frick said, turning away from the old pontoon boat. “Let’s head back.”

“Right, Frick.”

Back at the boat, Frick put the gas cans up on the fly bridge, as far away from the fastened-down portable generator as he could. Wiring that into the boat electrical system would come later. Feeling chilled, he went back to the lower control deck. “Ready to set sail, Fred?” he asked, flipping back the covers on the starter switches.

“We’re ready to go, Frick. Frack’s ready to undo the lines. Just waiting for your word,” Fred told him.

Frick started both engines in succession, hearing them come to happy life. Fred waved, and Frack first undid the bow line, then the stern. “Lines free, Captain. You may reel in the lines, then start the screws,” Fred advised as Frack landed on the fly bridge.

“Got it, Fred,” Frick said quietly as he touched the ‘rewind’ control on the port-side line winches. Once the lines were reeled in, he retracted the line winches. “Lines stowed, let’s get a move on.”

“You have the controls, Captain. Take us out.”

Frick engaged the screws, putting Deliverance into slow reverse. Carefully, he backed away from the dock before turning the boat to head out of the lake. Putting the boat into forward, he cautiously headed to the river, the thin ice crackling slightly. At the bridge, he looked closely at the cut lines of the blast. “I did that?” he said, not believing what he was seeing.

“You sure did, Frick. Can’t say how you did it, but you did it. Just keep her slow out on the river. Don’t want ice to poke a hole in the hull,” Fred advised.

“Thanks, Fred.”

A couple of hours of steady cruising had the Deliverance at the confluence of the Platte and Missouri rivers. Confidently, Frick aimed south. “Not going to Omaha, Captain?” Fran asked from her position next to Frick. She was due to take over the boat controls after lunch.

“No. No real need to, and I don’t want to buck the current heading north. Target for tonight is Nebraska City,” Frick said quietly, pulling up the navigation chart on the right monitor.

“What you hope to find there?” Fran asked, her whiskers twitching some.

“Gavilon Grain. If my supposition is right, we can find grains there, We can take enough corn and wheat from there to use as subsistence supplies, if we can’t find anything else. Freida did find a grain grinder, so we can use that to make flour,” Frick explained.

“What about us carnivores? Have a plan for that?”

“Yep. Freida is a good shot with a rifle. If the duty pilot spots something worth shooting at, let her know and she’ll head out to get it. I know you and her need meat in your diets. I also know you don’t need much. I figure hunting should cover that. Hope we can bag a deer. Venison’s good.”

“That it is, Frick!” Freida called up from the galley. “I know you ponies CAN have some meat, so long as it’s lean. Can’t get much leaner than venison!”

“We got any fish left, Freida?” Fran asked.

“I’ve used the last of what we got for lunch for us. While you’re driving, I’ll set a line up off the stern. Maybe I can catch a couple before supper,” Freida told Fran. “Now, come on down for lunch!”

“Can’t call me late for lunch!” Fran laughed as she left control for the saloon.

While conning the Deliverance, Fran took the time to look out at the river and its banks. Thanks to past floods, there are wide green spaces on either side of the river, except where cities have sprung up that use the river for barge traffic. It was cloudy, but warming up some, close to freezing or a bit above. South of the Platte, the storm didn’t drop quite as much snow as it did back towards home, she noticed. She had to admire the scenery, but… she missed people. She missed her family, her friends, her job at the University. She wanted to wake up out of this nightmare to find herself back in her real body, sure, she wasn’t thin and trim, but it was HERS, and she was quite happy with her thirty ‘extra’ pounds. Gave her curves, not lines.

A flicker of color caught Fran’s attention. On the western bank, a herd of deer nosed their way through the piled snow, foraging for food. She snapped out of her reverie and put out a call. “Frieda! Meat on the hoof!” she shouted.

The griffon looked up from the galley, where she had been swapping bread pans. “Which away, Fran?” she called back.

“Off to the right. Think you can make a quick kill?”

Freida looked at the herd. She counted at least ten, maybe twelve. “I can sure try! I’ll go for the smallest. Don’t think I’ll need the rifle,” she said as she grabbed for her radio and knife pack, flipping the lanyards around her neck. “Try to slow down a little, okay?”

“Idling engines,” Fran said as Freida went out the back door and up.

Freida flew strongly, following the river away from the herd before circling west, going beyond the herd to come from the south, putting the sun behind her as she stooped, if the sun was visible through the clouds, which it wasn’t. “Book said to just trust my feelings when hunting. The body knows what to do, even if the mind doesn’t,” she thought as she surveyed the herd. She wanted a smaller deer, but her first choice was too close to the buck for safety. She swerved to her second pick, a doe on the fringe of the herd, close by the river bank. Frieda circled a little before stooping, grabbing the deer and snapping its neck in one easy maneuver, picking up the carcass and heading across to the east side of the river. It was heavier than she had thought, but managed to get it down roughly about ten yards from the river. “Easier than I expected.”

Swiftly, she set to butchering, taking maybe twenty pounds of good meat, also including the liver. She gathered her meat together before realizing she had forgotten to grab something to carry the meat in. Fortunately, Fran was not idle, because as Freida was looking at the boat, she saw Frack taking off from the fly bridge, carrying an empty sealable tub in his hooves. He arrived quickly, dropping the tub near Freida. “I’m not getting any closer! I can smell it from here, and it’s horrid!” he shouted.

“Not to me!” Freida shouted back as she loaded her bloody cargo into the tub before clipping the lid in place. “I’ll cook this up on the grill!”

“You better! That’ll stink up the saloon something fierce!”

“Don’t sweat it, Frack! We got plans for this!” Frieda said as she took wing, heading back to the river as the boat sailed around a bend. Frack was off to one side, staying upwind.

Freida landed on the fly bridge, Frack on the after deck. Freida quickly set to work cooking up the beef on the grill, the liver in a fry pan with some oil. She would have used butter, but they didn’t have any. It wasn’t too long before Fran climbed the steps to the bridge, dressed in her shoes, Cornhusker sweat pants and a long, warm coat Freida had quickly stitched together. It didn’t have to be pretty, it had to be warm, and it was. “Who’s driving the boat?” she asked.

“Frick. I’m hungry for some meat!” Fran said with a laugh. “Smells heavenly! Should I get some bread?”

“Yes, and some flour, salt and pepper. We can eat up here,” Freida advised. “Take the loaves out of the oven and shut it off, too.”

“Will do!” Fran said before heading down, returning a few minutes later with a loaf of bread, a small bag of flour, and the spices.

“We’ve got to find a hand-cranked meat grinder sometime soon. I would have grabbed mine, had I thought of it,” Freida said as she flipped the beef and liver as the grill and fry pan warmed up.

While the girls chatted up on the fly bridge around the meat, the boys gathered below around the control area. “According to these charts, Nebraska City should not be too far ahead. Frack, want to fly on ahead and check Gavilon Grain? The three things I’m looking for are a place to tie up, a source of fuel, and a source of good grain. Find them and radio in the status of the objectives, then you can go see if Cousin Curtis made it back. If you can’t find fuel at Gavilon, try the dealership. Okay?” Frick said to his little brother.

“On it, big bro! I’ll keep in touch!” Frack said eagerly as he went out the side door.

Fred held up a hoof, stopping Frack in mid-motion. “Be back by dark. We don’t know what’s out there.” he said plainly.

Frack tossed his head in a vertical plane. “Will do, Fred. We DON’T know what’s out there,” he said before getting out and taking wing downriver.

It wasn’t long before Frack radioed in. “Okay, bro, at Gavilon. There is a docklike place here along the shore, I can see a fuel tank, and a couple of elevators. Give me a while to check things out, okay?”
“Sure thing, little bro. We should be there in not too long Call if you have any problems. If not, we’ll talk when we get there. Deliverance out,” Frick answered.

“Ten-four. Out.”

Frick gave the boat a little more throttle, eager to get in and tie up. That way, he could relax some, shutting down the engines, start the generator, and sit still long enough to try to puzzle out the charts.

“A little tense, Frick?” Fred asked.

“Just a bit. First day of sailing, and we’re making much better time than I expected to make. The girls got some venison, and I’m looking forward to relaxing and taking on some more supplies. Think we got enough room up on the fly bridge to put two more sealed crates?”

“Not there. Forward, we can bolt down some. Just about the only place we have left is on the forward deck,” Fred advised.

Frick grimaced like he had bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “Don’t want to bolt anything to the deck, may start a leak. Maybe velcro strips and glue?” he suggested.

“If we can find some, that’s as good an idea as any.”

The blue-green unicorn looked at the dark orange pegasus. “Spirit fence is up. Sent Cloudseeker up that way to observe and report, in case they are ahead of plans,” he told her.

“Good. What does the old bird have to say?” she asked.

“He’s curious, but if he is doing anything more, he ain’t telling me. Not surprising, is it?”

“With Raven, he doesn’t let his tail feathers know what his wing feathers are doing. Trickster gods are the epitome of Doing Your Own Thing,” she snorted.

“Don’t I know it. Remember, he called ME shortly after I woke up here,” the unicorn, Smoking Horn, muttered as he reached out with his smoky-gray magic to have some tea.

“Raven did that to all ten of us so far. At least he made his wants clear to all of us at the start,” the pegasus, Silverwing, replied.

“So far, nopony here but us Sioux.”

At dinner, after the boat was tied up at Gavilon Grain, Frack glared at Fred. “Who says I’m dumb?” he shouted.

“Put a lid on it, Frack!” Freida shouted back at the pegasus, who quickly backed down.

“Sorry, Freida. Pass the biscuits, please.”

Author's Note

I debated about putting this up tonight, maybe give myself some buffer. Seeing as I'm almost done with the next, and have plans further on, I figured 'why not'? Does better out there than on my laptop, right?

Hope you like. Yes, I admit to not having been anywhere near there (except KC), so I have to wing things off of maps. Would like to visit the area.

MRI on Monday to see how my heart is doing. We shall see.

kicks the closet door Two minutes, Desmond. Then it's safe for you to come out.

Chapter 4- Saint Joseph, and no aspirin...

The next morning, the second of January, the crew got to work. Frack and Fred got started running a hose from the diesel storage tank to the purifier, Freida went to scavenge in the city, Fran went to see if she could find a way into the grain storage bins, and Frick sent off an email to the WSU regarding the previous day’s activities. He knew he should have sent it the night before, but he was too tired to care, the venison bits he had at dinner being just a bit disagreeable to him. Not much, but enough to send the stallions to bed at an early hour. Freida always had a way with cooking venison, Frick and Fred going out every year during deer season and always coming back with at least two, if not three. They did enjoy venison. Just not as much now.

After the email was sent, with the notation that they were going to be busy today and will call tomorrow, Frick headed off to help Fran, after giving Fred and Frack a hand getting the hose laid out. It was stiff from sitting for months, and Frick’s magic was a big help. After that, he found Fran and started opening grain bins. They both lost breakfast, dinner and lunch more than once at the stench of rotting grain before they finally found some that was sealed and dry in barrels, corn, wheat and oats. Finding a couple of handy dollies, they rolled a barrel of each back to the Deliverance.

Finding the fueling well in hoof, Frack was told to go help Frieda scavenge, and if they needed help getting the stuff back, to call in. “Sure thing, big bro! Want me to check on Cousin Curtis’ place while I’m at it?” he asked.

“If you go out that way, okay. Helping scavenge comes first. We may put that trip off until tomorrow,” Frick said after thinking some.

“Okay!” Frack said eagerly before taking wing.

“What you plannin’ on doing, Frick?” Fred asked.

“Help you run this purifier. I want to figure out how it works, what to look for, and how to change the filters. Not right for just you and Frack to do the job,” Frick admitted.

“What about Fran?”

“Once she prints out a few maps, she’ll head out and help scavenge. She’s never been down this way before, so she doesn’t know where to look,” Frick replied.

“Sounds good to me.”

Lunch found the teams coming back, reporting on their finds. Freida gave Frick several large rolls of velcro and some tubes of glue, to secure tubs to the foredeck. Fran brought back something Frick never even thought about- a bicycle. With baskets on it, and a tire pump and patch kit. She said she found a bike shop, and figured why not? She could tie it to the foredeck, lying down, when she wasn’t riding it. She was roundly applauded for her efforts.
Afternoon was more of the same, with Fran making more than one trip back and forth. Fortunately, the snow was far less down here than farther north, so riding the bike wasn’t too difficult. Adjusting the seat high enough for comfort did take a few tries to get right. Frick and Fred, when not fussing over the purifier, took the time to fasten the velcro securely to the foredeck under the wheelhouse, and also to the three tubs destined to be put there. Frick found he had wrought a little TOO well, after loading the tubs with grain and putting them in position, he could not move the tubs until they were emptied. “At least we know they won’t be going nowhere,” Fred observed.

“Yeah. I want to find a bunch of smaller containers we can put around the boat. We don’t know if our lives could come down to a single can of oats,” Frick said worriedly.

“Accept divine providence when you find it, to prepare for when you don’t have it. You’re doing your best, Frick. We’re all in this together, rallying round your lead,” Fred encouraged his friend.

“You’ve always been a fount of common sense, Fred. Bless you for it,” Frick said, losing his worried frown.

“Bless me? I didn’t sneeze…” Fred said before laughing and giving his friend a hug. A careful hug. He knows how strong he is, and he didn’t want to hurt Frick.

Supper that night was like lunch, out of jars and warmed. While both Frick and Fred could cook, they were both busy because the real cooking masters, Freida and Fran, were out getting other stuff done, like gathering more filter material, more clothing material, a small sewing machine, and Freida’s happiest find, an electric power grinder to make grain into flour, along with fresh yeast packets. “Fresh bread when we’re under way, boys!” she laughed. She received a standing ovation for her words.

After supper, while the crew rested, Fred asked Frick, “What’s our plans for the next however long, Captain?”

Frick was quick to answer. “If we leave by ten tomorrow morning, it’s my hope to make it to Saint Joseph by nightfall. There, we can do some quick scavenging to top up supplies before getting to Kansas City. There, we’ll have lots of chances to refuel, resupply, and maybe even meet some more folk,” he told the crew.

“Good! That will give Fran and I a couple of hours to scavenge a bit more,” Freida said. “I can bring back some clean filter material, and a stop at the supermarket for a couple of boxes of ziploc bags of different sizes.”

“Bags? Why not Tupperware, Freida?” Frick asked.

“Bags can mold to fit whatever space you have for them, especially with flour. We can squirrel away some extra grains and flour down in the cabins without really taking away hoof space,” Freida explained patiently.

“While I think I found a hand-operated meat grinder which we can attach up on the fly bridge to grind meats down to burger, for later drying. An electric jerky maker is just too big for our kitchen. I already measured,” Fran told the group. “Plus, I don’t think the menfolk would appreciate the aromas.”

“Once again showing your intellect, Fran. Frack, what’s the weather going to be like?” Frick asked, turning to the pegasus.

“It will be nice early, but clouds will start forming about the time you plan to set off. Heading south, we’ll be going into a warm front, with rain likely by sunset,” Frack said with confidence. “Of course, I could be wrong. I’ll fly scout a few times to get a better feel.”

“Sounds good to me, little bro. Fred, anything to add?”

“Run the purifier starting after breakfast until we’re ready to leave, disconnect and stow the hose, and clean after we’re under way. We could use some more bigger trash bags for used filters,” Fred advised.

“Ladies, note that down. Okay, then, night activities until bedtime. Fran, want to draft an email to the WSU, or do you want me to do it?” Frick asked.

“You handle it, Captain. Freida and I have some sewing work tonight, if you want something to keep the rain off your hides tomorrow!” she replied with a smile.

“Okay, then. I’ll get started on that. I would like to thank whoever fixed supper, it was indescribable,” Frick said, getting up to head for the computer.

“But, bro, YOU made dinner!” Frack protested.

Without turning around, Frick muttered, loud enough for all to hear, “About time someone noticed…”, after which the other three started laughing at Frack’s grimace.

January 3rd, the crew of Deliverance did last-minute chores before setting off. The ladies did some last-minute scavenging, Frack and Fred got the purifier running to top off the tanks, and Frick had a ten-minute chat with WSU radio, outlining their plans for the day. After that pleasant chore, Frick relieved his brother so he could fly out to check their cousin Curtis’ place, and maybe leave a message.

Promptly at ten, Frack cast off the mooring lines and flew back aboard as Fred got to pull the ship out into the river, heading downstream. “Don’t worry, everyone’s gonna get a chance to park the car. Your turn will come soon enough,” Frick told the crew.

“Sounds good to me, Frick,” Freida said from the saloon, where she and Fran are working on an idea they came up with, gluing netting pockets to the ceiling, to store bags of grain and flour and whatever else. The only one who would have head clearance issues is Fran, and using soft materials, like grain and flour, it would not hurt her any if she ran into one. “Looking forward to my turn at driving.”

“While she’s driving, I will come up with dinner. Anyone for almost meatless tacos with canned cheese fakery, assorted greens and venison chips?” Fran asked.

“We could do a lot worse,” Fred said from the wheel. “Just wish we had refried beans.”

“I got a couple of cans. I just hope it’s still good,” Fran commented.

“Then, you’re on!” Fred said happily. “Just love a good taco.”

They cruised steadily down the Missouri River, engines turning over at about half power. They weren’t in a tearing hurry, and it made no sense to waste fuel at full power. The river wandered back and forth through a strip of land left fallow, to allow for flooding. Only where towns had sprung up, like Nebraska City, did Mankind build right on the river. Said towns are few and far between in this part of the country, too. In fact, after leaving Nebraska City, they passed one tiny town on the west bank of the Missouri. One.

Hunting worked out well in all the farm and range land. Freida managed to bag another deer and several squirrels early on, and stayed up on the fly bridge skinning and cooking until it was her turn to pilot. Fran came up to finish the work. Squirrel was a bit gamey, but tolerable. Venison, however, was the best. She ground up some of the meat fine and dried it on the stove, as a first step to making pemmican, or a version of it. She did come down about three, when it started to rain. She did get the meats sealed up and the stove off before coming down.

The rain steadily intensified, visibility decreasing as the rain increased. Frick came up to the wheel and got beside Freida, calling up the navigation charts. “Looks like we’re not getting to Saint Joseph tonight,” he said. “There should be another town before then.”

Freida glanced at the chart display. “I think we passed this place here about twenty minutes ago,” she said, tapping the screen which had the word ‘Rulo’ displayed. “What’s next along the river?”

“A town called White Cloud. We’ll pull in there. Hope we won’t have to drop anchor out in the river,” Frick muttered as he worked the navigation program. “Says there should be a dock there, and it’s like almost sixty miles from Nebraska City, not counting meanders. Making better time than I thought.”

Freida turned on the outside running lights and the forward spotlight, despite the fact it was just three-thirty. “Frick, how about you take the wheel, I take a lantern and fly ahead to this White Cloud dock and give you a light to steer by?” she suggested.

“I won’t ask you to, Freida, but if you think it best, then go ahead. You know where it’s kept. I’ll take over and slow down some, while you go and find the dock. Let’s get Deliverance to a good harbor,” Frick said as he squeezed forward to allow Freida to go behind him and out. Ponies and griffons are smaller than people, but the boat wasn’t built for ponies. He brought the engines to idle as Freida found her radio and the diver’s lantern.

“Be careful, Maw,” Fred said quietly without looking up from his Bible.

“Always am, Paw. See you when I get back,” she said, equally quiet, giving her husband a quick kiss on the cheek. Well, close enough to one. She went out the back door, shutting it before taking off and circling around the boat, looking ahead and to the right, shining the powerful light down along the west bank.

Freida flew carefully down the riverbank, looking for the town of White Cloud. She found that flying in the rain was not bad at all, just a bit chill. The lights of the Deliverance faded into the rain behind her as she headed south. It took her about ten minutes to find the pier, set along the river bank. She landed there and called in. “Found the place, Frick. When I see your lights, I’ll signal you with mine.”

“That works, Freida. Shouldn’t be long.” It wasn’t. Five minutes or so later, the lights of the boat began to be seen through the raindrops. Freida turned on her lantern and shone it towards the boat, waving it some to make sure Frick spotted it.

Soon, Frick had the boat parked and Freida tied both the fore and aft lines to the pier cleats. Freida got onboard, shaking most of the wet off before going into the saloon, where Fred was waiting with one of their large beach towels. Together, they got her dry in jig time, Freida wringing out the towel as best she could before going to put it in the dryer. They had found the washer and dryer on board worked, but took its time, especially on the dry cycle.

“What’s our plans for tonight, big bro?” Frack asked as Frick started the generator and shut down the engines.

“We’re going to sit here until the rain lets up before going on to Saint Joseph. I don’t know the river here, and I kinda like to see where we’re going. It’s God’s own miracle we haven’t hit a shoal or sandbar yet,” Frick replied, also turning off the fishing spotlights, but leaving on the running lights. “What’s the weather going to do, flyboy?”

Frack concentrated, looking at his inner eye at his weather feelings. “The front should be passing overhead within the hour, rain increasing until then, after which the showers will taper off and end by eleven tonight. Skies clearing as the warm front goes north, temperatures in the lower fifties, highs tomorrow upper fifties,” he said slowly, like he was reading a display. A pale golden light flickered through the saloon before fading. “How was that, bro?”

Nobody answered right away, they were all looking at Frack’s flank. “What you all looking at?” he asked.

“Bro, you just been marked,” Frick said slowly. Frack lifted his wing and looked. What he saw was a rooster on his red flank, on top of an arrow facing forward, all in a circle, all in black. “A weather vane?” he said incredulously.

“Sure looks like it, Frack,” Fred said slowly. “You’ve always been interested in the weather. You seem to be reading it well enough. Missed the second snowstorm, though.”

“It was masked by the first. I didn’t miss it, I just didn’t see it well enough. It was closer than I thought,” Frack admitted.

“Practice makes perfect, Frack,” Freida said, coming up to give the pegasus a wing hug. “I’ve read that pegasi can affect the weather as well as read it. Griffons can land on clouds and move them around. Maybe we can get some practice in?”

“Sounds like a good idea, but let’s wait until we can see better where the clouds are. Whose turn is it to cook tonight?” Frack asked.

“Mine,” Freida said, giving Frack an extra squeeze before letting go. “Since today is the day you got your mark, I’ll even make some cupcakes for us. How that?”

“Chocolate?” Frack asked hopefully.

“Of course!” Freida exclaimed before heading to the galley.

The next morning, January 4th, the crew of the Deliverance didn’t bother checking out the town. Instead they gave the boat a once-over, saw that the tubs of grain came through intact, cleaned up some wet spots, and got on their way.

Seeing as the charts said that Saint Joseph was on the order of forty miles away, Frick decided on two changes this day. The first is that he would proceed at about half-speed today, and the second being he told the fliers, Frack and Freida, to scout ahead and get some wing time in. His only order is that they stay in touch via radio, otherwise, they will meet in Saint Joseph. Encouraged, the two flew off.

Seeing as the clouds were rather low that day, the two fliers decided to try their cloud-walking skills. First problem was getting through the clouds. The two first bounced off the bottom of the deck. “How we going to do this, Freida?” Frack asked.

“I say dig,” Freida said back as she attacked the bottom of the cloud with her claws and paws. A hole soon appeared and she dug her way up out of sight. Not to be outdone, Frack tried something similar. He soon found the knack, and found his way to the top of the cloud before Freida did. Together, they looked out over the cloud deck.

“Rather bland, if you can’t see the ground,” Freida commented.

“Yeah, but clouds sure are comfy!” Frack laughed, rolling some on the top of the cloud, getting kinks out of his back, wings and legs he didn’t realize he had until then.

“How will we find our way back?” Freida asked. “I’m pretty sure, but I can’t see through the cloud.”

“Let me try something,” Frack said. He stood up on the cloud, spread his wings, and bent his will towards opening a hole in the cloud in front of them, top to bottom. A wind sprang up, a small whirlwind that bored a hole through the cloud. They didn’t realize how thick the cloud was until they holed through. “Wow! Thick cloud!”

“Stratus, I think. Flat and trailing the front. We better head down. I think we’re behind the boat, not in front,” Freida said, worried.

“We are,” Frack said. “Let’s get a move on!” He quickly dove through the hole, Freida on his golden tail. Turns out their play time with the cloud DID blow them back along the river, and they had to sprint some to catch up and pass the Deliverance as it motored downriver.

Noontime found the ship and crew tying up at a pier in Saint Joseph, Missouri. Earlier recon showed this particular pier had a fuel tank nearby they could draw from. Once moored, the brothers set up the purification gear while Fred and Freida, armed with a map, set out to explore the city.

Their destination was the Pony Express Museum, not because they were fans of the old Pony Express, what was on their minds are saddlebags. Saddlebags designed to go on a horse. With a model to go off of, Freida was positive she could make something that would fit everypony but Fran. She could use a regular backpack, once they found one that fit her tall, thin frame comfortably. They had to do a little B&E to get in, but few doors could resist Fred’s hooves. At least, none of the doors he had to kick in did.

The two spent a couple of hours alone together, exploring the museum. They did find the saddlebags they were looking for, taking the two smallest sets they could find. Frieda was sure she could trim those two down to fit Fred and Frick, the leather she felt was too stiff for the flexing of their wings to fit her or Frack. She has the canvas to make some.

Leaving the museum, the two leisurely walked back to the boat, enjoying their time alone together. Love that had started in their early teens still flourished, even though their bodies were much more different than they ever could have imagined. They could hear dogs barking and yelping not far away, but dogs didn’t worry them. Freida has a fully loaded thirty-eight in her belt pouch, and she knows how to use it. Witness the squirrels she had bagged yesterday.

Suddenly, a scream tore through the barking. The scream of a young child being chased by something. The two did not hesitate, Fred going to a gallop while Freida took off, both heading for the scream.

Freida found the dogs about two blocks away, barking and yelping around a small white object. Another terrified scream rang out, and Freida realized what that little white object was. It turned out to be a little white buffalo, screaming as it ran in a tight little circle, head low, not sitting still. She stooped, aiming for the edge of the dog pack, taking one in her claws and tossing it aside as she landed.

Fred turned the corner at full speed, galloping for all he was worth, which was a lot more than he expected to have. His tactic was to charge into the pack, scoop up the little buffalo with his head and get it onto his back, then get clear. Freida gave him the opening he wanted. As he got the buffalo on his back, he could feel the little thing clamp on with all four hooves. “Hang on, little one, you safe,” Fred puffed as he ran, Freida covering his escape.

Fred did not slow down his headlong rush until he came within sight of the Deliverance. He stopped some yards away from the boat and sat down, allowing the calf to slide off. The calf promptly went up to Fred’s front legs and leaned against them, shivering in fright. “What’s your name, little fellow?” Fred asked as he hugged the little.

“Wakinya Pejuta Mahpiya” the boy said distinctly before sobbing in fright against Fred.

“It will be all right, Wakinya,” Fred said soothingly as Freida landed next to him, reaching out to pet the calf’s matted dirty white fur.

“That’s right, little one. We will look after you,” Freida added, letting the young calf cry himself out in Fred’s hooves.

Frick came up to them. “What’s going on here?” he asked. Freida explained about the pack of dogs and the screaming they heard. “I didn’t hear anything. Then again, the fuel filter pump IS loud. Think we should get him aboard before the dogs show up?”

Freida said, in tones cold enough to freeze the river, “Let them. It will be the last mistake they will make.” Frick believed her. In all his life, he has heard Freida like that maybe enough times to count on both hands. Well, back when he HAD hands…

“Just leave him to us, Frick. He’s had one heck of a shock, and he needs to recover,” Fred said quietly, hugging the young calf to him.

“Okay, Fred. What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. I know what he said, and I recognize it, but that’s the extent of my knowledge of Lakota Sioux,” Fred replied. “Wakinda Petuya Mahiya, which means Lightning Medicine Cloud. That was the name of a white buffalo calf born a few years ago down in Texas. Remembered reading about it on Wiki. Right now, this little boy needs much medicine.”

“I’m sure you two can handle it. Think you can get him to the cabin?” Frick asked.

“We’ll do our best. Wakinda, inside? Clean up?” Fred said to the calf, who looked at him and nodded. He nosed a dirty spot on his hide and grimaced. “All right, then. On my back, okay? Like before.” Wakinda nodded and scrambled up on Fred’s back, clinging tight. Carefully, Fred got aboard Deliverance, and down into the main cabin, Freida right behind.

When they were out of sight, both Frack and Fran converged on Frick, asking for the story, Frick raised a hoof. “Now, I do not know all of what is going on here, but I do know a few things. White buffalo are considered sacred by the tribes here. Fred says the boy speaks Lakota Sioux. How about the rest of us? I sure can’t.”

“I know a few words, but I can’t say I know it. Knew a few Lakota who came into the shop,” Frack contributed.

“Pretty much the same with me,” Fran added. “Worked with one at the University, but I never learned his language. I know one of his part-time gigs was translating into Lakota the University rules for those few who needed it.”

“Now we have one on board, a little boy we can’t speak with. Just bloody wonderful,” Frick sighed, looking down at the deck.

“I would not worry too much, Captain. Fred and Freida seem to have matters well in hand. Let them handle it, you worry about the boat. How does that sound?” Fran suggested.

“Try that, bro! Fred and Freida can handle little Lightning. Let them do the worrying, you got enough to worry about, like helping me change the filters on the purifier. Later on, we gotta find a bunch more cotton and about a dozen thick socks,” Frack chipped in with.

“Okay, good points all. Fran, draft and send an email to the WSU letting them know about what happened, and ask about the care and feeding of buffalo kids. Maybe they have files on them. Right now, we need advice. They’re the best source. Frack, you and me, let’s get the filter taken care of,” Frick said, going to the filter apparatus. Fran and Frack exchanged a wink before getting to work, Fran proving to be a quick study in handling the Captain.

Down in the main cabin, Fred and Freida gave little Lightning a sponge bath, getting dirt and grime off his white coat, which when dried and brushed, shone gently in the cabin lights. The whole time, the two talked to and with the little boy, getting him to calm down. Lightning proved able to understand English, but for some reason could not speak it. That didn’t worry the couple, because they can see the boy was responding to a language that needed no translation, the language of love and caring.

After getting cleaned up, the boy showed signs of fatigue, so they put him in the big bed, Fred curling up as well. “Lightning needs to feel secure and safe. You go ahead upstairs and try to figure out what he would want to eat,” Fred advised.

“I know we have some powdered milk I have been saving. I’ll go ahead and mix some up. I’ll also try to make a selection, so we can find out what he would like,” Freida said, petting Lightning’s head gently.

“Sounds good to me, Maw. One thing I will say is that we don’t leave the little fellow alone. Either you or me should be within sight of him. Seems to give him security.”

“I can agree with that, Paw. Sometimes I regret we didn’t have children. This is one of those times,” Freida said sadly.

Fred reached up with a hoof, which she took in a claw. “Now, Maw, we settled this a long time ago. Having a child wasn’t in the Lord’s plans for us. Maybe Lightning will be a substitute, at least for a while. Now, it’s up to us to do the best we can for him. Think we can do that?”

Freida smiled down at her husband, squeezing the hoof gently. “I know we can,” she said before letting go and heading upstairs. Fred put his head down and was soon dozing as well.

Up above the boat and downstream, Cloudseeker, a former retired crop duster recast into the body of a young raven/panther griffon, observed the boat down below. Two ponies, one with a gold mane and one with a garish purple, were working on some sort of apparatus on the back of the sleek little boat. He watched for a while before turning about and heading back to Kansas City, to report to his boss, Smoking Horn.

“They’re there. Saw two ponies working on something. Not sure what it is. Watched them for half an hour. Didn’t see anypony else,” the griffon formerly known as Clifford Black Feather reported in his terse manner. He never did talk much as a human, but as a griffon he was even more quiet.

“Raven is certain there are more, and they have something important. What it is, the feathered bastard wouldn’t tell me, just we have to make certain they get here safely. Any ideas how?” Smoking Horn grumped, his horn letting out as much smoke as the pipe he was holding in his magic.

“Escort. Silverwing, me, Cold Current. Fly, swim Saint Joe, guide back. Work?” Cloudseeker asked.

Smoking Horn puffed on his pipe a bit. Yes, smoking is a dirty habit he had not been able to overcome in forty years as a human and after changing into a unicorn, but all admitted he chose the best tobacco for a room. It was the only thing about it that made it tolerable around everyone else. “Okay. Get Silverwing and Cold Current, then report back to me. By then, I’ll have some idea on what to say and do.”

“Right, shaman,” Cloudseeker said before leaving the room.

Fred dreamed while he slept, holding on to little Lightning. That’s not something Fred normally did, at least as far as he could remember them. In this dream, he found himself in what looked to be a rather large, ornate tepee, with cushions piled high on the floor in places, several racks of books, and what appeared to be a big crystal ball mounted on an ornate base.

Sitting across from Fred, on the far side of the crystal ball, is what Fred took to be an old man, with wrinkled leathery skin, white hair peeking around a black feather headdress, bright impish eyes and a very warm smile, bearing a resemblance to Edward Everett Horton in an old episode of Batman, provided you didn’t push it too hard. “Hello, Fred. You don’t know me yet, but I know you.”

“Okay, then. Just who are you, where am I, and why are you not a pony? News has it that no humans survived what happened. How did you get me off the Deliverance?” Fred asked.

The old man smiled warmly. “Who said I took you off your boat? You’re still there, holding on to little Lightning. You’re dreaming, and well, dreams I can manipulate. Part of my job.

“Now, you consider yourself a man of God, right?” the old man asked.

“Always have been, always will be. Support staff, though. Never could deliver a true sermon, and never wanted to go to seminary. I’m happily married and intend to remain so. ‘Till death do us part’ is not just words, sir. It’s a fact,” Fred said in reply.

“How right you are, Fred. In the case of griffons, even more so. You two love each other, that I can tell. So be it. Now, I have some words to tell you. This is not going to be easy,” the old man said, picking up what appeared to be a remote control. “Pay attention to the crystal ball.”

What appeared there, in full color with the old man’s narration, is a capsule history of what led up to the Event, including the Equestrian’s interference. “Now, when they did that, and the wave front passed, one thing the Equestrians overlooked is that the deities local to Earth are also able to return, like me, for example,” the old man said. “I was the quickest of my group to seize the opportunity and come back. I already have some followers.”

Fred blinked, nonplussed to the point of minus. “So, then, just who are you, good sir?” Fred asked with respect in his voice.

The old man smiled wide. “Glad you asked!” he said before morphing into a very large black bird. “I’m known by lots of names, but you can call me Raven.”

Fred bowed his head to the bird. When he looked back up, the old man was back. “You honor me, Raven, and I respect you. I do follow my God, however. I won’t be one of your… priests? Medicine men? I don’t know the term. Just where is my God, if I may ask?”

“He hasn’t come back yet. That’s the problem with most divinities, they lose the mortal sense of time. He’ll be along, just can’t say when.

“Now, I have a job offer for you. No, it won’t conflict with your beliefs,” Raven said, holding up his hand to stop Fred from interrupting. “You are a pony of your God. That won’t change. What you can do is help others find the God that is right for them. Many pantheons have returned, and you are in the position of being able to show compassion to all and help them find the deity that best suits their needs. No one deity can claim you, but all deities will back your decisions.”

Fred just sat there for a moment, thinking. “What would my God say when He returns?” he asked.

“Being late to the party, he won’t have the power base to say squat about the arrangements. Each deity is empowered to find one individual to be a ‘middleman’ for the gods. I’m just the first one who decided to do the multi-pantheonic recruiting gig. Most others, of those who have decided to get back into mortal affairs, tend to recruit clerics for themselves,” Raven then snorted. “Heck, so did I. I bet you’re wondering why you, of all ponies, right?”

Fred nodded his head solemnly. “That thought has crossed my mind, yes.”

Raven smiled at the reply, his eyes getting brighter. “I like you! You have manners!

“Simply put, the reason I’m offering this to you is what you did just a little while ago. Little Lightning Medicine Cloud has a great destiny in store for him. Whoever was handling his Return missed by a few miles.”

Raven took a breath before working his remote. Images started appearing, of a griffon, a pegasus, and something Fred had not seen before, some sort of water-adapted pony. “These three will be here tomorrow early to escort you safely to Kansas City, where an enclave of Sioux live. They will raise little Lightning properly, teaching him what he needs to know to grow into his destiny.”

“If I may ask, how am I supposed to do what you are asking me to do?” Fred asked, intrigued by the job offer.

“Good question. Most of it will be subconscious, like you can look at a being and know which way he or she is to go to ease their souls, if it needs easing when you meet them. You will know how to approach them and get them to talk.

“Now, I’m going to give you some additional talents, to make your job easier. First, you will be able to speak any language, so long as you are in the presence of one you need to speak to that does not know the languages you speak. Speak, hear, understand, the whole goods basket. Next, I will give you the ability to…” Raven paused at this point, searching for the right words. “Project a calming aura, to settle beings down enough to speak clearly and distinctly so you can read them properly. Third, you can heal by touch, so long as the wound is not too serious. You’ll have to set a broken bone, you can’t regenerate lost limbs, and you definitely can’t bring back the dead. That’s above your level. Any questions?”

Fred nodded once. “Yes. Three. The first is, this will not disrupt my standing in the eyes of my God, when He should return?”

“Not in any way, shape or form. By the time He DOES come back, he’ll have to fight hard to get a toehold. Europe would be easier for him than America. Deities are moving in. I’ve claimed my territory, my peoples. I will care for others who show up in my lands. Next question?”

“Two, how will I learn what I need to know to help beings find the proper gods?” Fred asked.

“You will know what you need to know when you need to know it, Fred. Survival comes first. You and your group are good at that. Lucky, too. Next?” Raven asked, the impish smile coming to the old man’s face.

“Three. When do I start?” Fred asked.

“Now,” Raven said as the dream dissipated, the last thing Fred remembered seeing were the letters ‘D B O’ in the crystal ball.

Fred woke up to find himself back in his bed aboard Deliverance, little Lightning snuggled up against him, looking at Fred when his eyes opened. “Hungry now, Grandpapa. Where food?” the little buffalo asked.

“Upstairs. Would you like to meet everyone aboard?” Fred asked, in Lakota.

“No scary dogs?” Lightning asked.

“No scary dogs. You understand English?”

“Yes, no speak it good. How you speak Lakota? Didn’t before.”

“I had some help understanding you, Wakinda. Only I can speak Lakota. Come on, let’s have dinner!” Fred said, rolling out of the bed.

“Show me!” Lightning squealed as Fred led him upstairs.

The other members of the crew stared some at Lightning when he came up, followed by Fred. “Hope he likes porridge, and lots of it!” Freida said from the galley.

“I think that will be a good thing, Maw. This little fellow is hungry, and so am I!” Fred said with an easy smile.

“Hey, Fred! You got marked, too! When did that happen?” Frack called out when Fred came fully into view. Everyone looked, except Lightning. Emblazoned on Fred’s blue flanks is a twisted brown and gray branch, with light green leaves and three dark green fruits hanging from it, with a little black bird perched at the tip of the branch.

“An olive branch, with a raven on it,” Fred mused. “Must have happened while I was asleep. Did have the damndest dream. Ready to hear it?”

That question was set aside for a few minutes while they arranged Lightning a place at the table. He was too small to sit normally, so Frick and Fred arranged some pillows for him to sit on, raising him high enough to reach the table. With an obvious grin of joy, the little buffalo eagerly dug into his dinner.

Fred explained about his dream, about how he has essentially become a ‘divine middleman’, showing troubled souls the way to the divinity that is best suited to them. He could speak another’s languages, can heal at need, and can confer with some sort of divine library to find the proper god for the proper job.

“But, what about God?” Freida asked.

“He’s in the mix, but he hasn’t shown up yet. Until then, I’ve been assured I will not lose any standing in God’s eyes by helping others. Times have changed, and we had best be able to change with them, otherwise we will be left behind,” Fred explained as he spread a little molasses onto a piece of bread.

“What’s this about a welcoming party tomorrow?” Frick asked.

“Three ponies from Kaycee will be here earlyish in the morning, to escort us down. There’s a little colony of Sioux down there, and this little fellow should have gone there. Slight error in delivery,” Fred said between bites.

“Hope we can top up down there. I had planned on scavenging tomorrow,” Frick worried.

Fran piped up then. “Captain, having fresh faces will help. Plus, who says they haven’t scavenged enough in K C already? They’ll know where the good stuff is, right?”

“You have a point, Fran,” Frick sighed. “There should be more in K C than there is here in Saint Joseph. We’ll do our scrounging down there.”

“Any plans for tonight, Captain?” Fred asked.

“For now, you and Freida take care of little Lightning here. Read to him, talk to him, I’ll leave him in your hooves and Freida’s talons. If you want to do some light work down there, by all means, go ahead. Those saddlebags can prove useful, if we can get them to fit.

“Frack, you and me will run the purifier as long as we can tonight. When we have trouble staying up, we’ll shut it down then and get everything put up. Fran, send a log to the WSU, updating what we have learned about Fred today. I’m sure they will be interested.”

Frick took a breath before looking at the little buffalo, now on his fourth bowl of powdered-milk fortified wheat and oat porridge. “You, little Lightning, are truly a wonder. I’m happy that we have been able to help you. May we take pictures later?” he asked.

Lightning looked up from his bowl, a little porridge dripping from his muzzle. “Is he usually like this, Grandpapa?” he asked Fred in Lakota.

“He’s a very good person, Wakinya. I’ve known him since I was your age. We all help each other. What say you, can we take pictures of you?”

“Sure, Grandpapa. He’s goofy, but very nice. Tell me about everyone later?”

“Of course, Wakinya. Finish dinner, okay?” Fred gently urged.

“Okay, Grandpapa!” Wakinya went back to filling himself up.

“What he say, Fred?” frack asked.

“He said it’s okay to take pictures, and he wants me to tell him all about you. About everyone here, actually. He’s curious,” Fred replied after some coffee.

“Sounds good to me. After dinner, I’ll get my phone and take some pictures. Fortunately, it’s easy for me to take selfies with my magic,” Frick said, trying to remember where he had PUT the damn thing, not having used it since before the Event.

Later, down in the main cabin, Fred, Freida and Wakinya sat on the bed, telling stories. Wakinya told about his family, what little he could remember. One thing for sure is that he knew he wasn’t where he was before, because there are no mountains around. He was used to seeing mountains.

“That’s unusual. All the reports we’ve heard about is that people who come back return to the same spot where they were taken from,” Freida mused. “We’re sure variations would creep in.”

“At least he wasn’t gender-bent, like some of the others have. I’m glad it hasn’t happened here, to any of us,” Fred replied.

“What’s gender-bent, Grandpapa?” Wakinya asked.

“Some boys are coming back as girls, Wakinya. Nobody knows why,” Fred answered honestly.

“I’m a boy! I’m glad I didn’t become a girl!” the little buffalo said indignantly. Fred laughed and hugged the calf warmly.

“We love you because you are you, Wakinya. Boy or girl, we would still love you. You should be feeling that. Do you?” the formerly-old sexton asked.

Wakinya threw himself into Fred’s hooves. “I do, Grandpapa. I love you, Grandmama, and everyone else aboard! You all want to help, not hurt. I can feel it!” he shouted in emphatic Lakota.

Freida joined in the hug from behind. “I don’t think I need a translation of that to understand the meaning, Paw,” she said with a small laugh, resting her head atop Wakinya’s.

“Always knew you were smart, Maw.”

“In news from America, the Fearsome Fivesome aboard the Deliverance have arrived at Saint Joseph, Missouri. Tomorrow, they will be going downriver to Kansas City, where another cluster of ponies have been found. I’m told they can hear us, but don’t have the knowledge to call out. It is hoped that Captain Frick and his friends find the means to allow the Kansas City group to call in and join the WSU network. There’s not enough of us to remain separate any longer than we have to.

“Up in Montana, DJ Grizzly reports…” the radio was shut off by a smoky glow.

Smoking Horn looked at his three tribe members. “At least they had the sense not to mention the surprise package. You three head up there, find them, and get them down here safely! I’ll arrange to top and swap some supplies. Now, get to it!”

“Sure thing, Smokey. Should be back by lunchtime, maybe a little after,” Silverwing said before leading the others out of the repurposed furniture store that served as home base for the Kansas City Sioux. Silverwing and Cloudseeker took to the air, while Cold Current sprinted for the river. She knew the fliers would get there first, but she would not be that far behind.

“Hear that, Landry? They’re going to be in Kaycee today! They’re moving faster than we expected!” Caleb said while he rowed the little boat steadily upstream, against what little current there was pushing back.

“We should still get to Natchez before they will, Caleb,” Landry squeaked from his position in Caleb’s mane. “Marie’s meddling down here is making it easier for us to go up and warn them, right? Think you could have done this with the river running at full spate?”

“Not as fast as I can now, Landry. How long before we get there?”

“Depends. Should be a few days before reaching Old River, then after that will depend on finding reliable transportation. If we have to walk it, no more than three days,” Landry advised.

“I’m big. I’m strong. I’m not very fast, but I keep on going. Right?”

“That’s right, Caleb. You keep on going when everyone else would stop. That’s why we do so well together.”

Caleb nodded, steadily rowing his way north along the big river.

Author's Note

Chapter four, and new players are showing up. Can Fred handle being a divine middlepony? Frack as a weather pony, well, he IS a pegasus, right? What will happen in Chapter Five, when the Deliverance makes it tooof! followed by a dull thump.

I warned you, Desmond. This is MY story, MY job! Get your backside back to The Back Roads before I have to do something more than knocking you out!

Yes, Mister Author. Don't hit me with your cane again...

Next time, it will be the walker. Don't tempt fate...

In other news, decided on a slight change of plans. If I have a chapter done and dusted by Thursday, I'll post it. If not, I'll wait until the next week. I can do this right, or I can do it fast. I'm no Starscribe. I'll settle for rightness. Plus, typing for more than a few minutes makes my shoulders hurt.

Until next time!

ALM

Chapter 5- Doing a Wilbert Harrison

Tuesday, January 5th, 2016, dawned bright and clear in Saint Joseph, Missouri. Aboard the Deliverance, the crew was up before the sun, making preparations to receive visitors. That was something new to them, not counting little Lightning’s arrival the day before. Freida got started making breakfast, with pastries and coffee, Frick and Frack stowed the fuel purifier and disposed of the dirty filters in a convenient dumpster, Fran swept and tidied the saloon and control deck, and Fred stayed below with Lightning, brushing the little buffalo until his fur gleamed in the light. Freida brought down Lightning’s breakfast, rather than having it up in the saloon. He went through a whole box of cereal and a pitcher of reconstituted milk before he was sated, while Fred had his coffee and scrambled camper’s eggs. Good thing they laid in a good supply of camping foods while in Nebraska City and Fremont. Nobody was looking forward to having to forage like they did when they first Returned.

It was about two hours after sunrise when the party from Kansas City approached. Frack had been on high guard and spotted them a couple of miles out. “Company’s coming, bro!” he called into his radio.

“Well, then, put your best foot, er hoof, forward and invite them down for coffee!” Frick called back.

“Will do, bro!” Frick said before taking wing to the approaching forms, a griffon that was almost pure black, and an orange pegasus with silvery-gray wings. He rapidly closed the distance to the closing fliers.

Once in talk range, he called out to them. “Hi, friends! Come on down! Hot coffee and fish cakes await you!” he shouted to the pegasus. Looking at the griffon, he added, “Fresh venison meat pies for you!”

“Did you say hot coffee?” the pegasus shouted back. “Fresh or instant?”

“Fresh! Powdered reconstituted milk, too!”

“Show us the way! Haven’t had good coffee since I came back!” the pegasus shouted, falling in behind and beside Frack as he led them back to the boat.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a third coming?” Frack asked.

“She’s swimming up the river. Should be about fifteen minutes behind us. Good thing the river’s running a bit high,” the pegasus replied.

“Swimming?” Frick said incredulously.

“She’s a hippogriff, able to live in the water just as good as walking on land. You’ll see!” the pegasus said with a smile. “Land on the foredeck or the upper deck?”

“Pier would be best. We got supplies all through the fly bridge and on the forward deck. Follow me!” Frack said as he came to an expert landing alongside Deliverance, the other two landing as well, just not as expertly.

Frick stepped out from the control station, hat pinned into place on his mane. “Hello, friends! Come on in! Coffee’s hot!” he called out.

“Hot coffee? Out of my way!” the female pegasus called out as she made her way aboard, followed by the black griffon, then Frack.

Freida already had cups of coffee poured in the galley. “How would you like your coffee?” she asked the newcomers.

“With milk and two sugars,” said the pegasus.

“Black,” chirped the griffon.

Freida swiftly served the desired drinks. “Pastry or meat pie and eggs?” she then asked.

Both newcomers looked as if they had been slapped. “Eggs?” asked the griffon.

“Camper’s eggs, but it’s better than nothing!” Freida said with a smile as she gestured for the guests to sit down while she served up fish and eggs to the pegasus, and a venison and egg mix to the rather startled griffon.

Cloudseeker poked at the stuff on his plate with a fork before tasting it. “Venison!” he exclaimed happily as he took a big bite.

Silverwing had a bite of what she had. “Fresh fish?” she said, sounding surprised.

“Caught it myself not an hour ago, and the deer I bagged yesterday. Don’t tell me there isn’t much game where you’re at!” Frieda said, startled.

“No. Birds, dogs, squirrel, rat, not much else. Country long flight away. Can’t carry much back,” the griffon said slowly before taking another bite.

“That’s one miracle today, Cloudseeker saying more than ten words at once,” the pegasus said before having some coffee, looking delighted.

Frick came in through the side door. “Hello, new friends! I’m Captain Frick of the Deliverance, and with us here are my brother Frack, the Chief Engineer, and Freida, our Purser. So, who may you be, and where’s the other?” he asked the group.

The pegasus looked up from her breakfast. “I’m Silverwing, and the griffon over there is named Cloudseeker. Out of the ten of us in Kaycee, we’re the primary fliers. Cold Current is a hippogriff, and the other seven are split between unicorn and earth pony, with one dog. Cold Current prefers water over flying. Have any more crew, Captain?”

“Yes, they’re currently down below, not knowing how much room we would need. Once you finish breakfast, we can lower the table and have room for the rest to come up. What is a hippogriff?” Frick asked.

“A pony that can switch between sea and land forms. She’s checking conditions in the river, making sure there are no real hazards heading downstream. We don’t think there will be, because the river’s high, but we were told to make sure you arrived intact,” Silverwing said before draining her cup. “Can I get a refill, Freida?”

“Sure you can, Silverwing!” Freida said, taking the cup and refilling it the same as before. After passing it back, she held the pot up. “Refill, Cloudseeker?”

“Yes,” he said, passing his cup over, which was promptly refilled and returned.

“Are you havin’ much trouble finding enough good food down there? What about water?” Frack asked.

“It’s not easy, to be honest,” Silverwing said. “We’re downtown, by the river. Not much small game there, and our main saving grace is a grocery store we found a block away from the furniture store Smoking Horn chose as our home. Good game is far away. We don’t really want to move, because the shaman says we’re in the spot that was picked out for us.”

“Shaman? Is that like medicine man?” Frack asked.

“Close enough. Smoking Horn is our main point of contact with Raven. We’ve all spoken with the bird, but Smokey’s the main point of contact. One thing we all have in common is that we are all Sioux who lived in the Kaycee area before all this went down. When we came back, Raven appeared to each of us and told us how and where to get together. We’ve been getting by, but it’s not exactly comfortable,” Silverwing explained. “Smoking Horn, as our shaman, has a lot of bennies from the bird, but doesn’t share much of them with everyone. Says that’s for the big move.”

Cloudseeker then spoke up. “Raven say, we get enough ponies, we go better place, away from city. Not enough yet.” The griffon’s speech was a lot like a raven’s caw, and it was apparent it was not easy for him to do, or he just plain didn’t want to.

“Where are you going to be heading to?” Freida asked as she dished out some more venison mix for Cloudseeker.

“He hasn’t made that clear to us,” Silverwing said between bites of a molasses-spread roll. “Somewhere upstream on the Kansas River. Once we get enough inhabitants, it will be time to move out.”

“Could be a lot of reasons why. Who are we to say what’s on a divinity’s mind, right?” Frick asked.

“Got that right,” Cloudseeker agreed. He was about to say more, but was interrupted by some splashing outside.

“Can somepony get this ladder set right?” a woman’s voice shouted from the stern of the boat.

Frack hustled out the back door and locked the swim ladder in place, the swim deck already lowered. “Need a hand up?” he asked the griffon-horse mix.

“No, I got two good ones. Ladder locked?”

“It is. Come on up, the coffee’s hot!” Frack said with a laugh.

With a quick move, the hippogriff was up on the aft deck, shaking the water off her feathers and fur. Her bird part was of a type unfamiliar to Frack, primarily black feathers with some red, a long thin beak, black wings and her equine part was a good chestnut color, with a tail that can be best described as being neon-orange. Frack quickly used his wings to screen himself from the spray.

Inside, Silverwing said to Freida, “Coffee black, a big plate of that fish mix, and rolls for her, please.” Freida had the coffee poured and the breakfast plated before Cold Current came in the back door.

“Hey, everyone! I’m Cold Current, and I’m glad to say you won’t have any problem sailing down to Kaycee. Water’s high, and the current’s getting stronger! Who’s commanding this beauty?” she called out.

Frick waved a hoof. “I am. Name’s Frick, that’s my little brother Frack behind you, and the griffon with the goods is Freida, the Purser and group mother. First Mate and the Tech Officer are downstairs until we can get enough room up here. Until then, come on, breakfast is served!”

Cloudseeker finished the last of his venison, passed the plate to Freida, took his coffee cup and squeezed outside. “Sit down. Breakfast better than Roscoe’s.” he said on the way out. Cold Current slipping into the seat freed up.

Cold Current took a slug of the coffee. “Damn! That’s the real bean! Tell you what, you show us how to get some good things going, and I’ll make sure Horny gives you a good deal in return. Deal?” she said happily before taking a bite of the fish and egg mix. Her eyes crossed in pleasure.

“Looks like we’re going to be in Kaycee a while.” Frick said to himself, watching the hippogriff and pegasus eat and making small talk with Freida. Frack stepped out on the aft deck with Cloudseeker, seeking out flying tips.

About a half-hour later, the breakfast plates and pans stowed in the dishwasher, everyone with cups of coffee in hand/hoof/wing/magic/whatever, Frick lowered the table in the saloon. “We have one more passenger aboard, a little fellow Fred and Freida encountered yesterday. We have no problem with you talking about Raven, because he talked to my First Mate yesterday. The passenger we are to deliver to you and yours in Kansas City,” Frick said before turning and calling down the steps. “All clear, Fred! Come on up!”

“Coming up!” Fred yelled back before climbing the stairs, Wakinya following and Fran bringing up the rear.

When Wakinya came into view, a gasp went up from the visitors. A gasp of utter surprise. Fred looked around at the newcomers. “Hope you all speak Lakota. Wakinya can’t speak anything else yet.”

“We all can,” Silverwing said before getting down on her front knees, looking at Wakinya. Gently, she reached out with a wing and brushed the little buffalo’s mane. “Hello, Wakinya. I’m Silverwing. We’re going to help teach you.”

Wakinya looked up first at Silverwing, then the other two. “I know. The goofy old bird told me. Will there be places to roam?” he asked.

Stunned stares from Cold Current and Cloudseeker bored down onto Wakinya as Silverwing laughed. “Who are you calling a goofy old bird?” she asked.

“Raven. He said I could until he says I can’t any more. Can I have a roll and molasses?” Wakinya asked.

“Freida, a roll and molasses for Lightning, please,” Fred said in translation as Silverwing got back up on her hooves. Freida readied the roll and passed it over as the visitors came out of their stun.

“So that’s what Horny wasn’t saying…” Cold Current breathed. Cloudseeker just let out a low caw in agreement.

“So, shall we get this show on the road?” Frick said to the group.

A couple of hours later, Deliverance was heading downriver at a sedate pace, faster than the current, but not by much. Fran was driving, Frick and Silverwing were in the saloon, talking, while Fred was out on the after deck, teaching Wakinya how to fish. Of course, they were not expecting to catch anything, but Wakinya did ask, and it did keep the boy out from being under hoof. Everyone else was aloft, taking advantage of the day to get wing time in, and most important, how to hunt. It wasn’t that the Kaycee group didn’t know how, it was the matter of transport. Trying to carry a deer carcass more than a mile or so is tiring on a griffin (or hippogriff), so they were using Deliverance as a cargo hauler. They had already bagged two, which, after gutting, were piled on the fly bridge for later butchering. They wanted to bag one more before starting that chore.

Inside, Frick brought Silverwing up to speed about the WSU. They had managed to get in a quick call with Sandra before she left her office, and gave her a quick review of Kaycee, with a promise to call back within two days for a longer interview.

“We’ve known about the WSU since we came back, it’s just none of us in the city has the learning to make a whole lot of stuff work. We scavenge for batteries to keep the radio working, but none of us were any sort of technician before. Cloudseeker was a crop duster, Cold Current was a diver at a golf course, I worked at Amazon, Smoking Horn worked at the furniture store we’re living at, you get my drift?”

“I can understand that,” Frick said. “All of us aboard are University of Nebraska graduates. I was Chief Engineer of KZEN radio in Columbus, Nebraska, my brother a damned good auto mechanic, Fred was the sexton at St. Isidore’s church, Freida the librarian at the Columbus Library, and Fran worked at the University of Nebraska. Between us all, we have enough of the right skills to get this boat moving and keep it that way.” He then explained about catching a WSU ride to the Netherlands and joining the colony there.

“You’re not in any great tearing hurry, are you?” Silverwing asked, but smiled when she said it.

“Nope. We’ll be happy to stick around some, try to improve your standard of living. One nice thing about all the people being gone is being able to replace things. We can take you through setting things up and keeping things running, but if something breaks, you’ll be better to replace than to repair. Just saying as someone who's spent forty years as a radio station engineer, it’s very easy to mess something up with ignorance. Been there, done that,” Frick advised.

“I just hope we can find all we need relatively close by. We’re not exactly able to carry things,” Silverwing said, shrugging her wings.

“So, do what we did. Improvise! Can’t carry much? Earth ponies are strong, so gimcrack some sort of cart or wagon for them to pull. Freida can show you how to make harnesses and saddlebags. Got a river? Use a raft! You say you have a dog? Use a bicycle and some sort of cart! You got some hunters hard at work now, so find or make a raft, go upstream several miles, and bag yourselves some deer! What you need to do is use some lateral thinking, is all!” Frick told Silverwing, his enthusiasm almost overpowering his better sense.

Silverwing considered what Frick had told her. “You know, if you can convince Horny the same way you convinced me, we will have a much better life, both in Kaycee and when we pull up stakes. I’m sure the crazy old coot will go along, as will the rest. Firebrand claims to know how to smoke meats, Steady Pace says he knows a lot about downtown Kaycee, and Roscoe would be glad to be able to do more than run around or dig. Hard for him to do so in town, he wants dirt to dig through.”

“Dirt?” Frick asked.

Silverwing nodded. “Roscoe’s the diamond dog. The few times I have seen him dig, he can go through dirt at breathtaking speeds, leaving a tunnel behind. It’s as big as he is, but it still means everyone else has to go in single file. Not good.”

“We’ll do all we can, without overstaying our welcome. Are there any granaries along the river before we get to Kansas City?” Frick asked. “We can do some transporting for you, bringing barrels of grain down.”

“There are, and we would appreciate it. I know where some chickens are roosting at. Maybe we can capture some and set up a coop in town. Camper’s fare is okay, but nothing beats fresh eggs, right?”

Frick nodded eagerly in agreement. “Got that right!” he exclaimed. “You find us a mess of eggs, and I’m sure Freida will put them to good use!”

“Frick, you got a deal!” Silverwing laughed, reaching over the table to give Frick a hoof bump.

What with the hunting, butchering, cooking, stopping to check a granary, fishing, and a stop to let Wakinya run on dry land for a while, it wasn’t until almost four in the afternoon before the Deliverance and its crew pulled up to a makeshift pier in Kansas City, where the entire colony, all seven remaining members, had set up a small party. The appearance of Wakinya startled the Kaycee group into silence for the better part of a minute. During the minute, the little white buffalo went right up to Smoking Horn and bowed in front of him. The blue unicorn was startled at the action, but recovered swiftly, his horn jetting the smoke that would have come out of his pipe, which had fallen from his mouth.

Due to the lateness of the hour, the party didn’t last long, but all agreed to be back in the morning for more ‘learning and negotiation’, as Fred put it. Wakinya went with Smoking Horn, but not before going up to Fred and Freida and hugging them both. “You’re my grandparents now. Know that Raven and I will not forget your kindness. I love you both.” he told them in Lakota before trotting off with Smoking Horn and the rest of the Kaycee group, all laden with various bundles of food, meat, deerskin, and whatnot.

Fred went to translate, but Freida stopped him with a claw. “I don’t know the words, Paw, but I know the meaning,” she said.

“I know you do, Maw.”

The next day, the Kaycee group returned to the Deliverance to plan and plot what needed doing and what can be done. The first thing to be done was Smoking Horn being interviewed by DJ WSU for the record, which lasted half an hour and dragged in most of the tribe for at least a few words. Wakinya was reported as a buffalo, but not as a white buffalo, in case that news would reach the wrong ears.

Freida was helped at breakfast by the diamond dog, Roscoe, who resembled a big beagle on two legs. He reported that before he became a dog, he worked on a chicken farm out past Topeka, being in Kaycee for a gaming convention. He also trained as a short-order cook, and proved to Freida he did know his way around the galley, but admitted he isn’t much good at cooking over a charcoal grill under a canopy wrapped in blankets.

Frick and Silverwing hashed out the day’s plans for each other. Frick, Fran, Silverwing, Cloudseeker and Cold Current will head north along the river about eight miles to the granary they passed, and load up with as much grain as they could take. The rest of the Deliverance crew would go with the Kaycee team to locate their stockpiles and see what they could do with everything there. Frick and Smoking Horn agreed that in the next day or two, they would seek out a good source of diesel and fill the tanks. The two teams then separated to do their assigned tasks, Frick and Freida taking their radios with them.

Late afternoon, the two groups met up again at what was called Party Pier. What room was available on the after deck and in the saloon was filled with big blue plastic barrels of grain, two each of wheat, corn, oats and barley. Working together, the two groups soon had the barrels lined up on the pier. Fred, being forewarned, had the Kaycee group bring four dollies, to wheel the barrels back to their lair. Something that was done quickly, because both pegasi agreed that weather was coming in on the high lope, and seeking shelter would be good. Said chore was done just in time before the weather broke, the Kaycee group taking a spare radio back with them.

Over dinner, Frick got brought up to date on the Kaycee situation. “I can’t call any of them dumb, Frick,” Fred explained over dinner. “It’s more like they’re complacent, waiting around for Smoking Horn and Raven to get things done for them, rather than doing it themselves. I think I got a fire lit under their asses when I showed them a few simple things to at least get some simple power back up.”

“They’ve been scrounging for batteries for their world-band radio. They did find some unused generators, but all the gas for them is bad. They thought they were out of luck. Not with me around, they’re not!” Frack said with a laugh. “I showed Firebrand and the Flower twins how to make a filtration unit, and we got it working with a foot pump moving the fuel through the filtration system. It should last long enough to switch to a powered version sometime tomorrow.”

“They are living in an old furniture store two blocks away. Could be worse, but it’s dry, comfortable, and warmish. There’s an antique shop nearby, and they brought over several old pot bellied stoves for heat, using coal and a lashed-together chimney arrangement to exhaust smoke out. The stoves are set on metal plates, and the unicorns are tasked with emptying ash,” Freida reported. “Supplies are on the lean side, mostly camping fare and bottled water. Roscoe does know his way around a skillet, but he doesn’t have much to work with other than grains, preserved stuff and fish.”

“So, recommendations on what we can do to help everyone out?” Frick asked.

“Yeah, I got some,” Frack spoke up. “We spend a few days learning about the city, where things are and such, and we go out gathering. Freida can measure for harnesses and saddlebags, and we can build some wagons and carts for them to do some hauling in.”

“There’s a place we passed on the way to the furniture store that sells fabrics and I think some leather. Making them harnesses will not be much of a problem, and I’m sure I can make them adjustable. Plus, I have the patterns for saddlebags written down. The ones we have I can cut down for the Flower sisters, but I won’t need to cut much. They’s big girls!” Freida said with a chuckle.

“There’s one thing we should find, and that’s blankets. Blankets sized and hemmed for pony’s backs, to avoid chafing,” Fran put in. “If that antique store has a pedal-operated sewing machine, I can handle that chore, if it works and we can find the blankets.”

“I’ve got the one sewing machine, but there’s not enough room on the boat for both of us to sew if I got another machine. Yes, we got a plug or two up on the fly bridge, but that’s pretty much full up of stuff we need,” Freida observed. “When the rain stops, I’ll check out that antique shop myself.”

“A good idea that leads to my next question. Frack, when WILL it stop raining?” Frick asked.

Frack looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s going to be raining hard much of the night, but it then will go to low clouds and drizzle for tomorrow, maybe into the next. It’ll be muggy and damp. Nothing intolerable,” he reported. “Except for the chill.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Frack. Getting damp doesn’t make me happy,” Fran snorted.

“Okay, then. Here’s the plan of attack for tonight and tomorrow. Freida, think you can get the saddlebags ready for the Flower sisters by tomorrow?” Frick asked.

“At least one, maybe both. Won’t know until I start,” Freida answered.

“Okay, then. Here’s one rule that must not be broken. This boat will not be unattended. ONE of us will be on board AT ALL TIMES,” Frick said forcefully, the effect only slightly ruined by his mane frizzing out some.

“Makes sense, Frick,” Fred commented. “All of us can rotate the duty. Also, only the five of us know the codes to access the computer. Anyone can start it, but going anywhere without the computer up is going to be hard.”

“Glad I set that up,” Fran said to the group. “Have a daily change of access code? Or should each of us use one, and I set the computer to shut off after two tries, so that it will not accept any except one of ours?”

“You can do that, Fran?” Fred asked.

“Won’t take me ten minutes after dinner to set it up. Just going to need your choices of numbers. I already know the Captain’s,” Fran replied. “Good thing the computer on board is cutting edge.”

“May God keep blessing our endeavors,” Fred intoned.

“Yeah, but which one?” Frack quipped.

In the morning, which was cold, damp, drizzly, and icky, Fran decided to do the day aboard, tackling some sewing jobs in the saloon, a tablet tuned to the ship’s control program by her side, all doors locked. She also planned on drying some venison in the oven, with a promise to ventilate the saloon the whole time. The others made their way to the furniture store, Fred pulling a small wagon which had the leather saddlebags from the Pony Express museum, using a harness Freida had made which was MUCH more comfortable than their original designs.

Frick went with Smoking Horn, to check out shops in the area, looking for items to salvage. Frack, along with Firebrand (a red unicorn female) and Steady Pace (a yellow and green earth pony male) got to work on the electric power system. Sure, it’s a couple of portable generators and a daisy chain of power bars that would give any good electrical engineer a stroke to look at, but siting the generators and fuel where the exhaust would not blow back into the store took someone who knew what to do. Frack did, with help from the others. He also checked the fuel quality that had come out from the purifier. Not perfect, but with a supply of octane booster, doable. Fred got together with Silverwing and Cloudseeker, who were instructing Wakinya in basic Sioux lore. Everypony knew he was doing that to spend time with the little buffalo, but nopony objected. Frieda took Roscoe and the Flower sisters (two big earth pony females, twins, with opposing color schemes, Sunflower having a yellow body with blue mane and tail, Cornflower a blue body with yellow mane and tail), along with the cart from Deliverance, and went antiquing, looking mainly for a pedal sewing machine. The third store, they hit the jackpot. A manual sewing machine that was not excessively heavy, and seemed to work properly. Roscoe and Sunflower took the machine back to the furniture store, while Freida and Cornflower went fabric, thread and needle hunting.

At lunch, the teams gathered at the Painted Sofa, the furniture store the Kaycee group lived at. For the first time, the shop was lit up with electric lights, all candles and kerosene lamps out. Frack discussed how he and his team got a shed from the hardware store, brought it back and set it up as a generator house, with three generators inside, but only two running at the moment. “Why have all three at once? Load isn’t that high, and I have the three feeding into a common power bus. Later on, I’ll shut one off and start the third,” he told the others.

“What about gas?” Smoking Horn asked.

“The purification unit is doing the job, Smokey. I managed to hook an electric pump to it, so you don’t have to foot-pump the thing,” Frack said. “I have three of your crew trained on what to look for, how to change the filters, all that stuff. Maybe tomorrow, we’ll get another shed, set it up in the alley and use that to hold the fuel processor.”

“Sounds good to me. All this is transportable, right? We do plan on leaving when we have enough ponies,” Smoking Horn asked of the pegasus.

“Oh, yes. You’re going to have to put together some wagons to pull, and I have just the plan for you. Pickup truck beds. Before we leave, I’ll show you and your unicorns how to take a pickup apart. It’s not as hard as you think.”

“Sounds good to me,” the blue unicorn said. “Frick and I found several radios and cell phones we can charge and use, as well as a couple of laptops. It will be good to have others to talk to. Before, we could only hear. Now, we can talk. Even after you leave, we can talk. You will let your technician come by tomorrow to get them set up?” he asked Frick.

“Of course, Smokey. We’ll pick someone to do the day aboard, and let her come here to get you set up,” Frick said. “We’ll pick later.”

Fred spoke up. “I’ll take the day aboard, Frick. I’ll keep Wakinya with me, so he doesn’t get underhoof.”

“I like that idea, Grandpapa. You tell good stories!” Wakinya said from his place at the low table.

“What did he say there?” Frack asked.

“He said he likes my stories, Frack,” Fred replied. “You know most of them anyway.”

“Freida, how did your scavenging work out?” Frick asked.

“Well, we found a machine and got it back here. After lunch, I was going to ask Frack to help me check it over, give it some grease, check for rust and all that. Tomorrow, I can get started on putting together harnesses for the crew here, and showing Roscoe how to do it.”

“If these saddlebags are a sample of your work, Freida, we won’t have to worry. We will pay attention!” Sunflower, the yellow and blue earth pony, told her.

“That we will!” Cornflower, the blue and yellow earth pony, and Sunflower’s twin, agreed. The two were at the same convention Roscoe was at, and they were in their car going for some early-morning munchies when the Event happened.

“I’m just glad they fit you as well as they do,” Freida replied, a smile in her voice. “Had to go by eye how much to cut down.”

“You do good work, Freida! Thanks!” the two mares said simultaneously. Many of the Kaycee contingent rolled their eyes. Synch speech was all too common with those two.

As lunch was breaking up, Smoking Horn let out a grunt, then went glassy-eyed. “Smokey? You all right?” Frick asked.

Silverwing spoke up. “Raven’s talking to him. Happens every time. He’ll be out of it in a minute or two. Odds are someone new has showed up.”

“Number twelve. Bricklayer’s Code,” Cloudseeker cawed quietly.

“Bricklayer’s Code?” Frack asked.

“The mortar, the merrier,” just about everypony in the Kaycee group chorused.

Frack countered the chorus with “I’m going to have to remember that.”

“You would, Frack…” Fred muttered.

Before Frack could counter, Smoking Horn came out of his trance. “Trouble. New companions arrive, but need help. Captain, we request your aid,” he said firmly, looking at Frick.

Frick looked back, going serious. “What sort of help, Smoking Horn?

“Three people, mother and two children, one teen, one small. Ameristar Hotel and Casino, a few miles downriver. RV in garage. Manticores there too. Their coming back disturbed manticores. Raven asks that we go to help. Will you help us?” Smoking Horn asked, eyes slowly focusing as he raised his ever-present pipe to his mouth and sucked on it. It had gone out, but he hadn’t noticed.

“The question is not WILL we, but HOW will we? I have an answer. We’re going to ride crowded, but we can manage,” Frick said, looking over the assembled group. “All those who can fly, do that. Freida, take what you need from the arms locker, arm everyone who thinks they can shoot, and do a little practice on the way. Horn, I want you, Firebrand, the Flowers and Roscoe to come aboard and we’ll sail there. We’ll do more thinking on the way.”

“I see where you are going, Captain Frick. Everypony not named, stay here in the store. Trail Tracker, you in charge until we return. Keep an ear to the radio. We’ll be in touch,” Smoking Horn directed as he re-lit his pipe.

“Let’s do this,” Frick said, getting up. “All fliers go on ahead, bring Fran up to speed and get your weapons. Leave two pistols, otherwise choose your loadout. No racing, though. Save your strength for when we need it.” The winged contingent headed for the door in a group, single-filing through and grabbing air. The rest followed at a walking pace.

“Just where is this Ameristar?” Frick asked the shaman.

“Few miles downriver. You not listen?” Smoking Horn said in rebuke.

“Oh, I listen. Thinking of other things. WE will get this done, not you, not me, WE. You help me keep track of details, okay?” Frick answered.

“Fair enough.”

Heading downstream, the Deliverance was proceeding at about full power, Frick piloting while Fran did some research on what a manticore could do. She put up her search results on the saloon monitor, which is also used to watch movies. “Okay, from what I’ve found so far, the main things to watch out for are the teeth, the claws and the tail,” Fran reported.

“Why the tail?” Firebrand asked.

“It’s like a scorpion’s sting, with poison. There is an antidote, it says here. They do have wings, but are not the best of fliers. The smartest thing to do is to hold them at bay somehow while we evacuate the family. That’s for the unicorns to do. Three unicorns, three ponies inside, one apiece,” Fran advised.

“What about us?” Sunflower asked. “What can we do?”

Fred spoke up. “When we were getting the boat, a pack of dogs tried to say no. Somehow, I found that I could confront them and whup their asses if I felt like it. They listened. I don’t know if it’s just me, or if you two can do it as well.

“When I rescued Wakinya, it was no more mister nice pony, for sure. Charge in, scoop him up, and shag ass, with Maw covering my backside. Now, I know I can bind at least one. Up to you two, and the others, to provide cover while the rescue is pulled off.”

“What’s my job in this?” Roscoe asked.

“Roscoe, you’re taking a pistol to help cover the unicorns. Don’t know how effective the guns will be, but if we don’t try, we won’t know,” Fran said. “You know how to shoot?”

“Can’t qualify for the Olympics, but I hit more often than not,” Roscoe admitted to.

“Raven will understand if we do have to kill the manticores, but he would like it if we did not. Bamboozle, dazzle, confuse, all good. Shoot to kill or wound, try to avoid. Saving the family is paramount,” Smoking Horn advised.

“Target coming into sight, ponies!” Frick called from the controls. “Get ready to handle lines!”

“Recon Viper One to Galactica, have target building in sight. No activity visible from here, going in for a closer look,” Frack radioed in.

Frick could feel almost everypony’s eyes on him as he took the microphone in his glow. “Galactica to Recon Viper One. Do not enter the base star until reinforcements arrive. Cylons can be nasty, Starbuck!”

“Understand that, Galactica. Will keep the squadron outside until reinforcements arrive. Just pour on the Tylium!” Frack called back.

“Approaching orbit now. Three to five minutes, Starbuck! Just hold your horses!” Frick called.

“Recon Viper One.”

“Are they always like that?” Smoking Horn asked Fred.

“When they can do so, they will. Frick may be five years older, but they have been as close as two boys could possibly be for as long as we can remember. I just wonder what series they will pick next,” Fred muttered.

“Sci-fi nuts?” Smoking Horn asked.

“Leave off the ‘sci-fi’ and you’ll be closer to the truth…” Fred muttered again, not wanting Frick to hear.

Once the boat was tied down, Frick idled the engines. “Landing party ashore! Fran, you have the ship!” he called out before getting outside.

“On it, Captain!” Fran said as they passed each other.

The ponies gathered on the pier and started walking to the garage, where they could see the five fliers flying in circles, occasionally swooping down to look inside the second floor of four.
“Apollo to Starbuck, what’s the situation?” Frick said into the radio.

“Apollo, I can see an RV on its right side, with more than one dent in it. Looks like they had the bad luck to appear inside the manticore’s nest. The manticores weren’t happy about it. There’s a big one sniffing and slapping at the RV, and another one with two littles off to the side. She’s licking one of them. Getting in there quietly isn’t going to be easy…”

Frick grunted at Frack’s report. “Yeah, ponies can’t tiptoe. We’ll call when we get to the garage. Where’s the ramp in relation to where the RV is?” he asked.

“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count, bro. You’re not going to like it.”

“Don’t tell me it’s on the far side…” Frick groaned.

“Take the stairs. You’ll come up behind the manticores,” Frack advised.

After hearing that, Smoking Horn spoke up. “I have an idea.”

“First time for everything..” Cornflower muttered. Or was it Sunflower?

“Let’s hear it, Smokey,” Frick said. “I’m no tactician.”

“Neither am I, but, let’s have Fred and the Flowers head up the stairs while the rest of us go up the ramp. One team can distract them for the other. One team is bound to get to the RV in time to pull off a rescue. Not saying it the best, but can you come up with something else?” Smoking Horn said to Frick in particular and to the group in general.

“I can run with that,” Frick said with a shrug as he picked up his radio and relayed the idea to Frack.

“Just give the word and the Vipers will hang in the windows and shout. That should help as well,” Frack suggested.

“Sounds good to me. Let’s get into position, lives are counting on us being right!” Frick said before setting out. The unicorns and Roscoe went with him, while the earth ponies went for the stairs.

It was only a few minutes before everyone was in position, the unicorns looking over the edge of the ramp at the tipped RV, Fred and the Flowers by the stairwell door, while the pegasi and griffons hovered at the third floor level. At Frick’s cue, the outdoor group dropped into view and started raising a ruckus of shouts, cries and caws. The two larger manticores started making tracks for the noisemakers, roaring their displeasure, their wings spread, but not taking flight. Frick next told Fred to come in his way while the unicorns charged for the RV.

The adult manticores perched at the edge of the lot, roaring and swiping at the pegasi and griffons, but did not take flight. “Must not want to leave their cubs,” Freida observed after letting out a roar.

“Would you?” Silverwing said, catching her breath.

Fred and the Flowers raced in from the stairwell. They were closest to the RV, but the two little manticores were in the way. In the not-very-bright light of the cloudy day, Fred could see one of the cubs was bloody, with visible cuts in the leonine portions. He came to a stop, feeling the pain of the little one. “Keep the other one occupied. This one needs healing,” he said to the sisters as he went for the injured one.

The sisters found that little manticores are fast, with the uninjured one letting fly its sting at Fred, hitting the pony just ahead of his cutie mark. He ignored it, focused on healing the other one, whose growls of pain were soon replaced by purrs as its pain went away. “There you go, little one. No more pain. You’ll get better soon,” he said to the wounded one before turning his attention to the uninjured one, both sisters needed to hold it down, one for the body, one for the tail. “Easy, kid. I helped your sibling. I help you, too.” Soon, the other one grew less fussy as Fred paid attention to it.

Meanwhile, the unicorns and diamond dog made it to the roof of the rolled RV. Roscoe got the hatch open (actually, he ripped the damn thing off), and climbed inside. Working fast, he handed out the three ponies inside, from smallest to largest. The three were dark-furred, with bat wings, not feathered. Each unicorn took a batpony in his or her glow and quickly walked to the ramp and down. Roscoe grabbed a few backpacks and a purse he found before exiting as well.

After the manticore cubs were asleep, Fred looked at the sisters, then at the two manticores, roaring and swiping at the ones outside. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to the two of them before heading for the stairwell door just as fast as he could quietly go, the sisters right behind.

At the stairwell, Sunflower asked him, “You’re bleeding a little from where you were stung, Fred. You all right?”

“I’ll last till the boat, for sure. Faster we’re out of here, the better off we’ll be. Hope Frick got the family out,” Fred answered. The sting site was beginning to tingle, but a little attention drove the tingling off.

“Okay, everyone, we got the family out. Viper team, keep their attention until both teams have left the building, then head back to base. Fran, as soon as we’re aboard and the lines are free, full power out!” Frick said into his radio as he carried the smallest of the batponies out.

“Viper flight copies orders, big bro!” Frack said.

“Stairway team on the way out. One of the babies was hurt. It’s not now,” Fred reported.

“Deliverance copies orders, Captain!” Fran acknowledged.

“I hope their craziness isn’t contagious,” Smoking Horn said quietly to Firebrand.

“I would say they got it from you, but they haven’t been here long enough,” replied Firebrand.

“Have some respect for my position!” Smoking Horn said in reply.

“Your position, yes. YOU, that’s something else…” the red female unicorn said smugly.

Back aboard Deliverance, the three batponies, still unconscious, were put down on the big bed in the forward cabin, the one Fred and Freida shared, with Firebrand watching over them. Upstairs, Frick noticed something about Fred as they were having coffee. “What’s that stuff on your side, Fred? Is that blood?” he asked.

Fred turned his head to look. “Yep. One of the little manticores stung me there as I was treating the other. Don’t feel anything from it. I’m not worried.”

“You ought to be,” Frick managed to say. “Manticore poison can be lethal if not treated, and we don’t have what they use to treat it with. I’ll be in my cabin. I’m going to call every number we have in the WSU until I get connected with somepony that knows something about this!” his voice going to a squeak at the end.

“Easy, Frick. I’m not feeling off at all. Go do your research. Earth ponies are tough,” Fred said in his usual quiet voice.

“Well, I’m going to find out if you’re tough enough!” Frick said, getting up and heading downstairs, bringing his coffee cup with him.

Six no answers later, Frick dialed a number which was picked up by an Officer DeVries. After Frick said what was going on, he got passed on to someone who knew how to make the potion. “Hydroponics. Cadet Buhle on the line. What’s needed?” an accented woman’s voice came over the phone.

“Miss Buhle, this is Captain Frick of the Deliverance, in Kansas City, Missouri. My First Mate has been stung by a baby manticore. What do we need to make an antidote?” Frick managed to say, the phone wobbling a little in his magic’s grip.

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of you on the radio. Please, call me Asha, and don’t worry. Manticore venom I have dealt with personally in the past.So please, stay calm. I’ll need your email address to send you the right potion recipe, along with a list of equipment and materials you’ll need. Make sure your antenna stays connected while we do it, okay? Fair warning however, you need manticore venom to make manticore antidote. How much, you’ll find in my instructions.” Asha said as she reached for a pen and notepad.

Frick took several deep breaths before slowly reciting his email address to the lady at the other end of the phone. “How long will it take to make the antidote? Also, what sort of tools are needed to make it?”

“All the details will be in the information packet which I will email to you within an hour. It should take about a day to brew, once you have the ingredients. Who got stung?”

“Fred, my First Mate. He’s an earth pony, if that means anything,” Frick answered.

“That’s good, they’re tough, your friend will last longer, it gives us more time to get the antitoxin made. Let me put together the information packet and send it to you. Keep calm and follow instructions, all should be all right. I’ll be here in Hydroponics all night, so call this number if you have any questions. Don’t worry if he starts showing symptoms of the paralysis. That’s normal. Manticores are poor pursuers, they need to paralyze their prey to close-in. What you * do * need to pay attention to, is if he starts shaking. That’s when the venom starts attacking nerve tissue. Okay?” Asha asked in calming, soothing tones before giving her phone number, which Frick quickly scribbled down.

“Okay, Asha, I will do that. Thank you for your help. Don’t hesitate to call me or the boat’s number as well. What’s morning for you is oh-dark-hundred for us. I’ll go wait by the computer. Thanks again,” Frick said before hanging up as a case of the jitters raced through his body. He knew when that happened, to relax and let it pass, so he sprawled on his bunk and let the shivers pass over and through him. “I will not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…” he thought as the shakes slowed.

A couple of hours later, the Deliverance crew were sitting at dinner, having been joined by Silverwing and Wakinya, who insisted on staying with his ‘grandfather’ until he recovered. The little buffalo can be stubborn.

“All three of the nightflyers are awake now, and very confused. The last thing they remember is pulling into the garage and parking. The father got out to register, the kids were asleep, and the mother dozed off waiting. Next thing they know is waking up at the Sofa. Horny’s talking with them now,” Silverwing told the crew.

“Are they all Sioux?” Fred wanted to know. There was a bandage on his flank where the sting went in.

“Yes, they are, going from Fort Peck to Tuscaloosa, Alabama. The mother had a job waiting for her at the University of Alabama, as an associate professor of psychology. Looks like their move got interrupted,” Silverwing reported.

“It sure did,” Frick commented after swallowing. “What about your opinion on antidote making?”

“Let me take a copy back with me and talk it over with the others. Maybe someone knows about botany. I don’t.

“Tell you what, Frick. You concentrate on how to get the manticore venom, I’ll focus on finding the herbs, and we’ll also try to find the equipment we’ll need. More room at the Sofa to set up than here,” Silverwing observed.

“I’ll go print another copy up,” Fran said, getting up from the table. “We’re going to have to get some more paper and ink for the printer, as well as more spices. Squirrel meat does the job, but it tastes foul!”

“I have to agree, Fran,” Freida said. “Something we didn’t think of earlier. I’ll look into that next grocery trip we make.”

“Good idea. We’re also going to have to spice up what pemmican we make with the meat, deer or squirrel. Should make it keep a bit longer, too,” Fran agreed from the wheelhouse, where she started printing up a copy of the manticore antidote recipe and tool list.

“You’ll be alright, keeping Wakinya with you?” Silverwing asked Fred.

“We won’t have any trouble, Silverwing. He wants to stay by his grandpapa, so I say let him,” Fred replied, putting a hoof over Wakinya’s back.

“Grandpapa may need big medicine soon, and I got some! Great Bird says I can try!” Wakinda piped up with, drawing laughter from Fred and Silverwing, the only two who could understand.

“What did he say?” Frack asked.

“He says that he’ll stay with me until I get better. He has permission from the Great Bird to try,” Fred answered.

“I thought Roddenberry died years ago!” Frack said, followed by a mass facehoofing.

“Great Bird means Raven, little bro, not the Great Bird of the Galaxy!” Frick said while trying to hold in a laugh.

“Oh. THAT bird…” Frack said lamely, staring into his can of Vanilla Coke.

Author's Note

If anyone caught on to the chapter title zinger, let me know. You're either as old as I am, or a big music nut. Or both. Or you cheated and looked it up. No matter.

Looks like the crew has a bit of a problem. How to get manticore poison, how to get the rest of the stuff, how to put it all together, and do it all before Fred keels over. Lose Fred, lose Freida. Griffon pair-bonding at its best. Also, can they find the proper herbal mix stateside? For the answers to these and other questions, tune in next week, same THWACK!

Almost got away with it, Desmond...

Chapter 6: Operation Manticore, or something like that...

About two hours after dinner, Frick got a phone call from Smoking Horn. “Heard from Raven. Have an idea on how to get venom. We have to work together to get the stuff,” the shaman said.

“What’s your idea, Smokey?”

“Roscoe and I will be there within an hour. We have to strike tonight. Will talk when we get to you. Be ready,” Smoking Horn said before hanging up.

Frick stared at his phone before shutting it off. “Rather abrupt, he is,” he snorted as he put the phone away.

“Who was that, big bro?” Frack asked, looking up from whatever he was watching on his laptop.

“Smoking Horn. He has an idea on how to get the manticore venom. We have to go get it tonight, though. He’s on his way here.”

“Oh, what fun. At least we have more than enough fuel for the trip. Need to find some diesel fuel tanks before we set out.”

“I know, bro,” Frick said with a sigh, running a hoof through his mane, which they still hadn’t trimmed yet. “Just one of the many concerns of a captain.”

“Not to mention provisions, fresh ink and paper, and several cases of bottled coffee,” Fran added from the pilothouse.

“And a hundred and one little details we never seem to remember,” Frick added with a sigh. “Let me put on a fresh pot of coffee. How goes the research on manticores, Fran?”

“Other than they are big, nasty, toxic and best approached with bullets? If we didn’t need some manticore venom, I would say stop going to that casino. Something we don’t need to gamble with,” she told the brothers. “Too bad what little we could get from Fred’s wound was too mixed with blood to be used. We’ll have to get it from the venom glands.”

“Well, Horny says he has an idea. Hope it’s worthwhile,” Frick grunted.

“It must be. He’s coming here after dark. What does that tell you, bro?” Frack countered with.

Frick countered that with his own line. “HE thinks it’s important. Will WE?”

That question was answered twenty minutes later, when Smoking Horn and Roscoe arrived, Roscoe carrying a satchel. The two sat in the saloon, with everyone but Fred and Wakinya gathered around. After having some coffee, Smoking Horn started talking.

“Raven called me a little bit ago. He says that he is concerned about his associate, and is willing to help some. I have been gifted with a spell that will keep the manticores still and quiet, for two minutes. We will have that long to get the venom out of the manticores and get back to safety.

“This is what I propose. Later tonight, about ten o’clock or so, four of us go back to the garage. We go up the stairway Fred did, open the door, and I cast the spell. The two minutes start then.”

“Which four are going on this job?” Frick asked.

“You, me, Roscoe and Fran. You and me, we will keep the manticores held down while Roscoe and Fran extract the venom. Roscoe has equipment that will help, as well as gloves and headlamps for him and Fran,” Smoking Horn said confidently.

“Why me?” Fran asked.

Roscoe spoke up. “Simple. You and I do NOT have hooves. We can move a lot quieter than the ponies can. That stealth will be important. The unicorns can hold the manticores still from the stairway door, while we get the venom.”

“Mind if I throw my two cents in?” Frack asked. At Smoking Horn’s nod, he did. “I suggest that Freida and I be hovering outside the nest. We can have flashlights, and if needed, we can make a distraction to divert the manticore’s attention, hopefully long enough to allow everyone to get clear.”

Smoking Horn and Roscoe looked at each other for a few seconds. “Raven said nothing about that, but I see nothing wrong with that idea. Let’s get going. We need to find the place in the dark,” Smokey said.

“That, Frack and I can do, once we get going. We can fly down to the casino, determine where we tied up earlier, and set a couple of lights down to mark where to tie up. Only thing is, we’re going to have Fred to stay on the wheel while we’re out,” Freida said, joining the conversation.

“How is Fred doing?” Smoking Horn asked.

“Doing well, no effects of the poison seen yet. However, he has said he’s using his own healing ability on himself to keep the poison at bay. He does not know how long he can do it.”

“Wakinya is there. Little Lightning Medicine Cloud is determined to help his grandpapa. Maybe he can,” Smoking Horn said with a sigh, clearly not believing his words. “That is yet to be determined.”

Frick got to his hooves. “Cast off all lines once I start the engines. Freida, go fill Fred in, then get the chemlights to mark the position. Also, see me before you leave, I have one thing to give you,” he said.

“What’s that, Frick?” Freida asked, getting up as well.

“The flare gun, with two flares. I just have a feeling you may need it,” Frick told her as he went to the pilothouse.

Smoking Horn actually smiled. “I see your plan, Frick. I like that idea. May we not need it.”

“I hope so too, Smoking Horn. I don’t want to hurt them. Raven would not like it,” Frick said.

“He won’t, but if you have to, he will understand. He knows you know his wishes, and will do your best to follow them,” Smoking Horn proclaimed.

“Nice to know SOME god is on our side…” Frack mumbled, but not quiet enough to escape Smoking Horn’s attention… and retaliation. A smoke cloud that enveloped Frack’s head long enough for him to start flailing his head about, coughing at the scent of what was admittedly a wonderful tobacco and cherry mix, just a cloud thick enough that he couldn’t see through it.

“You’re going to have to teach me that, Smokey,” Frick said in admiration.

“On our way back, I’ll see what I can do.”

Two hours later, the Deliverance was anchored a few hundred yards upstream of their target, the low-light optical system and short-range radar both on, trained at the garage. On the thermals, white blotches moved around, hard to identify, but easy to spot. The activity they spotted from the low-light optics surprised everyone who watched the scene play out on the saloon monitor. “What’s going on there? An Eagles concert?” Frack said, surprised at the amount of activity going on there.

“Well, something’s going on for sure,” Frick said from the wheelhouse. “Notice that each level is inhabited, but by something different. We’re all pretty sure the two big blips going on and off the second floor are the manticores, smaller ones on the third, SOMEthing on the fourth, and they are all going to the roof and coming back. Feeding, maybe?”

“If they’re feeding, just what are they feeding on? It’s dark up there!” Frack said, almost in a shout.

“I would go up and look, but not at night. During the day will be soon enough. Let’s see if the activity will settle down some,” Freida observed from her position in the galley.

“It has been, since we came into range. Maybe another hour will be enough. We only have until midnight, then I will forget the spell,” Smoking Horn said almost as a proclamation. “I say we go at ten-thirty. That should be enough time for us to get in and out.”

“Yeah, but we weren’t expecting the neighbors to be up and about, visiting each other, Smokey!” Roscoe objected.

“You going to explain that to Fred and Freida?” Fran snapped back. “If something happens to Fred, we lose Freida, too! Griffons mate for LIFE, Roscoe!”

Everyone in the saloon and pilothouse recoiled at the venomous hiss in Fran’s voice. They had never heard THAT tone of voice from her before. Roscoe visibly wilted. “All hail the brainy bunch…” the dog whimpered, totally cowed by Fran’s outburst.

“We WILL be saving Fred’s life tonight, no matter what the cost and pain, right?” Fran hissed, looking at everyone in turn. “I know it CAN be done, so we will all go and DO it! The neighbors didn’t bother us before, so by going in low, we should be all right, right?”

“Why didn’t we notice the neighbors before?” Roscoe asked.

“Because we didn’t look for them,” Smoking Horn shot back with. “We were all locked on rescuing the nightflyers, which we did.”

“The proper species name is ‘Thestral’, Smoking Horn,” Fran corrected, her voice losing the venomous hiss.

“I’ll pass that on to Raven. He calls them nightflyers,” Smoking Horn said.

“Even gods can be wrong, Smokey,” Frick said reasonably. “They have to learn about the new strangenesses, too.”

“That they do, Captain Frick. That they do.”

At a quarter past ten, the Deliverance was being held in position by Fred at the controls. Frack and Freida were airborne, and the other four were stealthily making their way across the lot to the garage. The two unicorns had their hooves wrapped in towels, which made their hoofsteps quieter, though they both admitted it felt unusual.

Finding the door open, the four started going up the stairs, but they quickly found that even with the hoof wraps, it echoed in the stairwell. “Okay, now what?” Fran whispered.

“Captain, use your magic. Lift me and put me on the landing, then I will bring you to me. We do that again to get to the next floor. Coming down, we use our own magics to get down safely. Just use handrail, yes?” Smoking Horn asked.

Frick just lit off his brilliant purple magic, which wrapped around Smoking Horn and slowly lifted him to the landing, Fran and Roscoe following. Once safely on the landing, Smoking Horn returned the compliment with an almond-scented gray cloud, then once more to get to the second floor access door.

Cracking the door open, the four peered out at the manticore nest. From what they could tell, the two large manticores were curled protectively around the cubs. Smoking Horn muttered something in Lakota, and a vanilla-scented cloud gushed out of his horn and went to the nest, filling it before fading. “We have two minutes. Go now!” he said, and Roscoe and Fran raced out.

They went to the male, whose tail was closest to the door. Fran opened her bag and put on some rubber gloves before taking out a small glass jar and a large eyedropper. Roscoe grabbed the segment of the tail just behind the stinger and squeezed. It took some effort to get some venom out, and more to get enough in the jar for their needs. “Bastard must have been doing some hunting after we left,” Roscoe said quietly.

Fran quickly capped the jar and put it in her bag. “Ten seconds…” she hissed.

“Let’s go!” Roscoe said as he sprinted to the door, Fran right on his heels. Too close, as she tripped and fell, fortunately turning enough to put the bag on top of her, not under. Smoking Horn sent out his almond-scented cloud while Frick’s glow appeared around the manticores.

Swiftly, Fran was carried back to the stairwell. Frick released the manticores before shutting the door as quietly as he could. “Let’s go,” he said as Fran regained her footing.

“You lead, I bring up rear,” Smoking Horn said as Fran and Roscoe sprinted down the steps.

“Right,” Frick agreed as he made his way down the steps, Smoking Horn forming a cloud behind them that smelled of licorice. The second-floor door flew inwards with a loud bang and a roar from a rather unhappy manticore.

“Back shield up. Won’t get through,” Smoking Horn puffed as they made their way down the stairs.

“We get outside, towels come off!” Frick grunted as they got down the flight of steps to the first floor.

“Noise be damned, we need speed!”

Frick keyed his radio. “Starbuck, keep your eyes open for the Cylon’s allies! We got the goods and are heading back to the Galactica! Exiting base star… now!” he said as the team came out of the stairway and made a beeline to the chemlights that marked where the boat was waiting.

“Got our eyes on you, Apollo. Upstairs neighbors are some sort of bat and another sort of flyer about the size of a large crow. They’re not bothering us. In fact, when the roars started, many of them zipped back to their floors,” Frack reported.

As soon as everyone was aboard, Fred gunned both motors and got the hell away from the Ameristar, heading upstream at just about full power. Frick went to the pilothouse to relieve him. “Feeling okay, Fred?”

“A bit weak and tired. I can’t wipe the poison out of me, but I can stall it some. Wakinya says he should do some medicine, but only when I can’t say no.” Fred then snorted. “I believe the kid, too.”

“Go lie down, Fred. Save your strength. More fun tomorrow, trying to find the rest of the stuff,” Frick grunted, paying attention to both the radar and low-light camera.

Looking over the upper parapet of the garage, Amon-Thoth looked down at the fleeing boat. “They came here for a reason. They came back for a reason. Manticores are not happy. Need to get another breeding pair. Ground floor empty, second floor manticores, third floor pigeons and crows, fourth floor bats, fifth floor me and my garden. By summer, move more southwest. I really hate snow,” the huge old sphinx said quietly to himself before looking over his rather lush garden, kept warm and dry by the same globing field that masked perceptions coming in. Amon-Thoth didn’t want company, he wanted privacy. He aimed to get it.

After tying up at Party Pier, the crew and guests (except Fred and Wakinya) gathered around the saloon table to figure out what is next on the to do list. “So, we have to find these herbs and plants and bring them back to the Sofa?” Freida asked, reading her copy of the cure’s recipe.

“That is correct, Freida,” Smoking Horn said after a pull on his pipe. “You, Frack, Silverwing and Cold Current will go out tomorrow shortly after dawn to hunt. Cold Current knows several botanical gardens in the region. Seems to me those are the best places to look, yes?”

“They are, but I’m a librarian, not a botanist! Many of the plants we are looking for I have not even heard of, much less what they look like! How would I know what to look for?” Freida said, her composure slipping a bit.

“You won’t have to. Cold Current does, and maybe you should ask for photographs of the plants to be sent to you before you head out. They should be coming on shift about now,” Smoking Horn said calmly, looking at the two clocks set on the saloon walls, one set for local time, the other set for Maasvlakte time.

“Friday morning there. Someone should be up soon. I’ll stay up late and send the message. Is there enough ink left in the printer, Fran?” Frick asked.

“It will be close, Captain. I’ll have to scavenge for some tomorrow, along with a couple reams of paper. Good thing I have my bicycle,” Fran replied.

“I’ll go with you, Fran. Maybe we can find a bike for me as well,” Roscoe offered. “There’s a bike shop not far from the Sofa.”

“Good idea, Roscoe,” Smoking Horn said. “Tomorrow, you two do your scavenging. First Aid supplies will be of help, too, along with supplies for three more. Show up early and we can find out what thestrals require.”

Fran nodded at the words. “I can do that. Once we can get a bicycle for Roscoe, we’ll be able to go farther and faster. Maybe we can also find baskets or a pull-along cart as well.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Frick said, getting up. “I move we all head to bed, so we can be up in the morning. Sooner we get this potion made, sooner Fred will be alright, and we can get back to getting this colony going well before we push on downstream.”

Everyone aboard took the hint, Smoking Horn and Roscoe getting up and putting their traveling gear on, Roscoe taking the jar of manticore poison. Freida showed the guests out before heading downstairs herself, Frack and Fran cleaning up, Frick heading to the pilothouse to send the message. Once the message was sent, he crashed out on the saloon sofa, in case a return call was made.

The morning of Friday, January the eighth, dawned bright, clear and crisp. Gathering in Deliverance’s saloon are Frick, Frack, Freida and Fran from the crew, and Smoking Horn, Cold Current, Silverwing and Steady Pace. Frick took the lead, once all had coffee cups firmly in hoof (or equivalent).

“Okay, we received photocopies of all the plants we need, plus some alternates in case the gardens here do not stock the primary plants,” Frick said to the group before looking at Smoking Horn. “You have all the labware needed to make the potions?” he asked.

Smoking Horn solemnly puffed on his ever-present pipe before replying. “Enough to get started. What we don’t have now we will by tonight.”

Steady Pace then spoke up. He is a school-bus yellow earth pony, with bright red hooves, mane and tail, who got his name by walking from Wichita to Kansas City in only a couple of days after his Return. Raven told him where to go. “I’ve done some chemistry work, not botanical, though. I’ve read the instructions, and I’m confident I can get the job done, with some help.”

“All of our unicorns will take shifts to assist. How’s Fred doing?” Smoking Horn asked.

“He’s resting well, with Wakinya by his side,” Freida told the group. “Fred’s saying that he’s holding off the venom effects for now, but he does not know for how long. Wakinya says that when Grandpapa can no longer say no, HE’s going to work some medicine, if he has to.”

“That’s a kid for you,” Smoking Horn said through a pleasantly pungent cloud of pipe smoke. “I also have no doubt the kid WILL do something to help, so let’s make sure he doesn’t have to, okay?”

“Sounds good to me, Chief,” Cold Current said. “I have the maps, they have the plans, we have the bags, and we will be back by nightfall. Everyone set to head out?”

“My bags are packed, we’re ready to go, you just need to open the door, I say goodbye, we all fly!” Frack sang, his fully-charged radio and satphone strapped to his flight harness, along with two packs on his back, between his wings.

As the foursome headed out, Smoking Horn asked Frick, “Is he always like that?”

Frick nodded in agreement. “He is. It’s when he’s not that we have to worry. Ever since we returned, and he found he has his foot back, he hasn’t been happier in many years. We tolerate it because his humor can be infectious.”

“Okay, then. You doing the day aboard, or is Fran? Maybe you would like to meet the nightflyers we rescued,” Smoking Horn asked.

Frick looked at Fran, who just waved Frick on as she cleaned up the galley. “Looks like she is. Let’s get a move on.”

“Right,” Smoking Horn agreed, leading the way out, Steady Pace and Frick following.

In the skies over Kansas City, the four fliers gathered. “Where are we going first?” Freida asked.

“Our first stop is the farthest, Powell Gardens. For that, we need to follow Seventy east to Bates City, then Highway Z south to the gardens,” Cold Current said before looking down and deciding which of the concrete ribbons below them was Interstate Seventy.

“Lead the way, Navigrater! We’ll be right behind you!” Frack laughed, tossing his head some, making his golden mane shimmer a little in the bright cold daylight.

“This way, ladies and whatever else!” Cold Current called out with a laugh as the cormorant-mix hippogriff dropped out of hover and chose her roadway east, the rest following.

“Whatever else? What do you mean by that, Coldie?” Frack asked.

“You’re not dumb, Frack. You’ll figure it out!”

Meanwhile, back at the Painted Sofa, Frick sat down with Smoking Horn at a table with the three thestrals, Margo Byrd, her teenage son Morgan and her nine-year-old daughter Lucy. Of the three, only Margo had a cutie mark, that being a yellow pen and paper pad symbol, which stood out against her dark fur. She looked up from the papers in front of her, which were printouts from the WSU about thestrals, along with a capsule history of the Event. “So the odds of us ever seeing Eric again are pretty much slim to none, right?” she asked.

“That’s pretty much it, Margo. If he wasn’t in the RV with you, no telling when he will come back. Where is obvious, that being where he was. When could be anywhere from tomorrow to up to ten thousand years from now,” Frick said solemnly.

“We had pulled in about three-thirty or so, looking to stop for the day. We had left Fargo at noon the day before, and made our way down to here. A flat tire slowed us down for a few hours around Omaha,” Margo said. “We three are together because we were in the RV together, right?”

“That’s correct, Margo,” Smoking Horn said. “Has Raven spoken to any of you yet?”

The three thestrals looked at each other. “No, no one has, that we know of. Do you mean the real, true, honest Raven, the trickster god?” Margo asked.

“Yes. Now, thanks to the Event, magic, gods and such are as real as a slap in the face,” Smoking Horn told them. “I’m his principal shaman around here. We would like it if you joined the tribe. Better than being alone, right?”

“You do have a point, Smoking Horn. You will let us join you?” Margo asked in reply.

“We’re all Sioux here, except for Frick and his band. Raven would like it if you did. We will get our land back, our history back, our pride back,” Smoking Horn said in Lakota.

Margo and the kids blinked at the words. “How?” Margo asked.

“The proper way, Margo. By treating the land properly, without Washington sticking their fingers in.”

“You speak Lakota a lot here?” Morgan asked. “We know some, but not well. One class a school year at Fort Peck.”

“We will fix that, Morgan. In time, not right away,” Smoking Horn assured the teen thestral.

“Will there be a place for me in your clan, Mister Horn?” Lucy asked.

“Of course there will be, Lucy. We just have to determine what exactly that place is. Once Raven speaks to you, we will know more. Now, you and Morgan go with Cloudseeker and see about learning how to fly, okay? You have wings for a reason, now go learn to use them!” Smoking Horn directed, his smoke forming an arrow pointing to the black griffon.

Once the children left with the griffon, Smoking Horn got serious. “We have a lot to talk about, all of us. Shall we start?”

The four flyers landed in Powell Gardens, disregarding the gates. “Okay, everyone has a guide to what we’re looking for, so let’s start looking!” Freida squawked as she chose a direction, the other three choosing directions as well. The search took about two hours, occasional calls between the four telling of findings, or lack of them. The foursome gathered back where they started.

“By my count, we found four of the prime ingredients, and six possible substitutes. We COULD head back and get started, but I say we go to the next place and see if we can find more of the prime ingredients. Any objections?” Freida asked, stowing her lists in her pack.

“I can’t think of any,” Cold Current said, the other two nodding in agreement.

“Then, lead the way, Coldie!” Freida called out, taking wing, the others following.

It took Cold Current about an hour to find the Overland Park Arboretum and Botanical Gardens, because she didn’t realize until later that the Gardens were not in Overland Park, but southeast of Olathe. The four landed by a nice little lake, and again Freida gave them directions on where to go and what to look for. She herself took to the herb garden by the lake.

She busied herself there, finding herbs that not only fit the recipe, but would also be good for the kitchen as well. This went on for half an hour before Freida felt uncomfortable, like she was being watched. She looked around, spotting nothing at first, then a rock in the pond lifted up, revealing a six eyed froglike creature with sharp teeth in its mouth.

As they looked at each other, the froglike being croaked a few times, then spoke. “Leader will be out in a moment. Why you here?” it said to Freida.

Freida blinked a few times before getting her wits collected enough to answer. “Gathering herbs to be used to make antidote for manticore poison. My husband was stung last night, and we don’t have much time to find and assemble the ingredients,” she managed to say to the big talking frog.

“Wait for Leader. Be here soon,” the frog croaked before settling back into the water, again resembling a rock.

“Talking frogs. Doesn’t that beat all…” Freida trailed off as she saw a flock of colorful butterflies heading towards her. “No, butterflies in January has to beat all.”

When the ‘butterflies’ got close enough, Freida saw they were a mix of pony and butterfly, with large gauzy wings and long antennae attached to a pony body that could not be more than three inches in any dimension. They were also of all colors, like ponies, but tending to solid colors than patterns, with large fluffy manes which some had styled into ornate shapes and whorls. The flock settled to perch on Freida, who barely noticed the contact, except for the one that settled on her nose, a rose-red in color with an elaborately-styled light pink bouffant mane-do. “I am the leader of this colony of breezies. You may call me Mrs. Harkness. Kermit says you mean no harm. Is that true?” the little breezie said, in a high-pitched squeaky voice.

“Yes, it is true. We’re gathering ingredients for manticore poison antidote. My husband was stung yesterday. Can you help my friends and I find what we need?” Freida said quietly, not wanting to deafen the breezies.

“Easily. We would like something in return as well,” Mrs. Harkness squeaked.

“What would that be? If we can provide it, we will.”

“Heat!” Mrs. Harkness shrilled. At that, all the breezies on Freida shivered. “It’s been cold!”

“I can’t do so, but I know who can. Let me call him,” Freida said, carefully bringing out her radio.

The breezies flew off, except for Mrs. Harkness, who enveloped herself in a pink glow. “Athena to Starbuck. Meet me at the landing place. Urgent.” she said into the microphone.

“Are you in any trouble?” Frack called back.

“No, but I can use your expertise. Get back here fast,” Freida said firmly as a shadow passed over her.

“We’ll be right down, Athena!” Frack said before landing, along with Silverwing and Cold Current.

After introductions and explanations, Frack got thoughtful, as did Silverwing. “I have an idea that can work. Portable greenhouses. We can set up one or two here, and let the sun heat up the inside. Problem would be getting them here,” Frack mused, pacing about as he thought.

The breezies twittered and tweeted among themselves for a couple of moments before breaking up. “That will work, especially if you can set up more than one here. In exchange, we will gather what you need for the antidote and to make medicinal potions. How soon can you set one up?” Harkness squeaked.

“If you can tell me where a Home Depot is nearby, I can try to bring one here and assemble it. I may not have time to finish before dark, but I can finish it tomorrow. But first, we have to get started making the potion for Fred. I’ve known him all my life, and I’m not about to lose him to no manticore!” Frack declared.

“About three miles north on Sixty-Nine is an Ace Hardware. That’s closest,” Harkness squeaked.

Silverwing then spoke up. “Everyone, I suggest we table this for the moment and get the ingredients back to make the potion we need. After that, we can get together with everyone in Kaycee and see about sending some down here to help out the breezies. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly, so we can make sure all sides are happy. Deal?” she said, sounding like the leader she could be.

The breezies huddled again, squeaking in almost a supersonic range until they stopped. “Deal. We’ve survived this long, a few days more cannot hurt. We have knowledge of other potions as well, ones that speed healing as well as cure diseases. We will share our information with you in exchange for making our lives better,” Harkness told the group.

“I will bring this matter up with my leader, Smoking Horn. I’m sure we can come up with something to get ponies and materials here to help. We’re based up in Kansas City, by the river. We will come up with something. I know where you are!” Silverwing said with a smile, which the breezies returned happily.

“Okay, everyone! Let’s get our tuchises back and get this potion started. We don’t know how much time Fred has left,” Freida reminded them, a note of sadness in her voice.

“One thing,” another breezie, a white one, shrilled. “There is a plant that will speed up the making of potions, and is a vital ingredient of the best healing potions. It’s called poison joke, and there is a large patch of it in the Kauffman Memorial Garden. Problem is, the patch is guarded by nasty creatures, like a bugbear, several cockatrices, and at least one basilisk.”

“Kauffman Garden was our next stop. We’ll avoid it for now. Do we have enough ingredients for the antidote?” Silverwing asked.

“You do. Go and save your friend. We will be here, waiting for you,” Harkness squeaked.

“Okay, we’ll go now. We WILL be back, I assure you. Just can’t say when,” Cold Current said to the group.

“Go in peace. Hurry, hurry!” Harkness squeaked with a laugh.

“You heard the boss lady! Let’s move out!” Frack called as he took wing.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Tonto, not knowing the Lone Ranger.... (glack! Easy with the stage hook, Bernie! That’s my neck, y’know!)

Meanwhile, back at the Painted Sofa, Steady Pace, along with Roscoe and Trail Tracker, had returned from the Menard’s with an assembled storage shed, which they placed in the back alley, near to the power shack. While Roscoe ran some wiring into the shed, Pace and Trail Tracker started building the chem lab, according to the instructions sent over by the WSU. Frick went back to the Deliverance, to relieve Fran so she could find some more ink and paper for the printer. He found Fred dozing, Wakinya tucked in alongside him. With a nod, he headed back to the pilothouse to read any mail.

“Recon Viper One to Galactica, do you copy?” Frack’s voice crackled over the radio.

Frick picked up his radio. “This is Galactica. We read you three by, Recon Viper One. Where you been?” he asked.

“Galactica, we got the goods! ETA to the outpost in about fifteen centons. These radios don’t have a lot of range. Have we got some news for you!” Frack said excitedly.

“Well, then, after you drop off the goods, you and Athena get back here! Cassiopeia’s out shopping, and Tigh’s resting. I’ll have the coffee hot!”

“Do that, Galactica! It’s cold out here!”

“So turn on the heater in the Viper, Starbuck!”

“Can’t! They took it out to save weight!”

“Just get your tails back here when you can!” Frick said before going to the galley to make some coffee and milk.

Half an hour later, Frack and Freida landed on the Pier, Fran having beaten them back by five minutes, having heard the chatter on her radio. Over hot coffee, the flyers told the ground pounders about meeting the breezies, what they had to offer and what they wanted in return.

“Show me on the map where they are, so I can figure out how to get there,” Frick said after the report. When shown, he grew thoughtful.

“By road, we’re going to have to see about converting a truck to get there. On hoof, it could take half a day. Frack, tomorrow I want you to scout this river and creek. I want to see how close we can get to this park by water,” Frick said, tapping the map with a hoof.

“I doubt it, bro. That stream did not look nowhere near big enough for the boat,” Frack said, sounding dubious about the idea.

“So, we make the stream bigger. If necessary, I’ll blast,” Frick replied, lighting up his horn with a bright purple glow.

“You sure that will be safe, Frick?” Freida asked.

“You sure that will be SMART, bro?” Frack asked.

Fran didn’t say anything, but had a disapproving look that would put any cat to shame.

Frick looked as confident as Frack usually does. “We won’t know if we don’t try, right?”

Fran finally said something. “As my supervisor at the university, Mister Goldfarb, would say, ‘Kid, you’re meshuginah!”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Fran,” Frick said after a sip of coffee. “New friends can use some help. We throw enough mud at the wall, something’s going to stick.”

“Bro, tomorrow I’m going to scout every inch of the stream, from the Missouri River down to the Breezies. Let’s see how far we can go without having to blast. I would feel better if we were heading downstream, not upstream,” Frack said firmly, glaring at his big brother.

“Little bro, I would not have it any other way,” Frick replied, sitting back and sipping some coffee. “Talk some more with them, get a better grip on what they need.”

“I can do that.”

The next morning showed a change of plan being put in effect. Fred, upon awakening, found his right hind leg (the one that got stung) felt weaker. It was decided that he would head for the Sofa and wait there for the antitoxin to finish brewing, which according to Steady Pace, should be sometime the next day. Freida and Wakinya went with him, not willing to leave him alone.

Frack left early, to scout out the rivers, which left Frick and Fran free. After some discussion, Fran decided to stay aboard, saying there were some chores she could do, like sewing, grinding grain for flour and refilling the ink reservoirs in the printer, chores that she was willing to do, and Frick wasn’t. So, Frick went with the others to the Sofa, for ‘consultations’.

At the Sofa, Frick had the opportunity to chat with the thestral family, which did wonders for his spirits. The hugs from Morgan and Lucy helped. After that, he talked with Smoking Horn and Silverwing.

“I spoke with Asha Buhle earlier,” Smoking Horn led off with. “When I told her of the breezies, she was curious. When I mentioned the poison joke, she squealed like a rubber toy before calming down. Apparently, the stuff is hard to grow, but is absolutely essential to the production of some very high-power potions. It seems like they want as much of it as we can get them, and yesterday. I’m expecting someone to call later today, to see what we can hammer out. Asha said the big shots are going to be very interested. They must be. Noon here is what, seven at night there?”

“About that,” Frick agreed. “It’s just how do we get past the guardians? Bugbear, basilisk and what else?”

“Cockatrices. Yes, they are rough. Their gaze can turn you to stone. Literally,” Smoking Horn grunted through a cloud of pipe smoke.

“Sounds like something to avoid,” Frick said. “You have any plans yet?”

“Nope. I will, but not now. Ideas simmering on back burner.” Smoking Horn grunted as Steady Pace came in from the potion shed.

“Okay, potion is mixed as per the directions. I just have to check it once an hour until the potion changes color. When it does, it will be ready to use,” he reported to the leaders.

“That’s good to hear. How long will that be?” Frick asked.

“Best guess is this time tomorrow. Instructions say it takes a day to finish. I just hope they are wrong,” Steady Pace said. “The Flower sisters will be working with me, so I don’t have to stay up the whole time.”

“That’s good to hear. Don’t want to overwork you,” Smoking Horn said after a puff.

“It’s for a friend. No fatalities on MY watch, not no way, not no how!” Steady Pace declared.

“I’ll hold you to that, Pace,” Frick muttered.

Frack reported in about four hours later. “Okay, bro, I’ve gone from one end to the other, and here’s what I found,” he said after having some lunch. “First, The Blue River, no problems with depth. You’re good all the way up until the fork. Wolf Creek, some of the way, is deep enough, but it is narrow and at least two bridges are too low. Maybe a third. It’s marginal, and I don’t want to chance it.”

“How far away from the park is the closest we can safely get?” Frick asked.

“The creek fork is about as far as I want to push it. Fortunately, we can pull over there, and it’s about a half-mile walk from there to the gardens. Only about a hundred yards of it is grass, the rest driveway or street. The hardest part is getting stuff off the boat to shore,” Frack reported.

Frick thought for a moment. “How difficult would it be to fix up a car for us to drive, or a pickup truck?” he asked.

“To be safe, a day at most. We’ll have to purify a tank of gas, not to mention clean out the tank and engine of the old gas. Putting in hoof controls, I would say no more than a day from start to finish. Of course, I’ll need to FIND something,” Frack admitted.

“No problem. Sofa has a delivery truck. Big enough to haul furniture or greenhouse kits down. It’s in the garage, or I should say THEY are. We have two. I'll show you now, okay?” Smoking Horn said, looking happier than usual.

Both brothers got up. “Lead on, Smokey!” Frack said.

The unicorn led the brothers to the garage section. There, they found two large trucks, one gas, one diesel. Frack wasted no time going over them. “Does he know what he is doing?” Smoking Horn asked quietly.

“You bet he does. He’s a master mechanic. If it can be fixed, he can fix it,” Frick replied in an equally quiet voice as Frack puttered about the trucks, checking each over thoroughly before making his pronouncement.

“Okay, I’ve decided. We’ll take the gas powered one, because I can get it ready by nightfall. Smokey, who’s your best unicorn mechanic?” Frack asked, trying to get a smudge of grease off his nose.

“Me. Why you ask?” Smoking Horn asked in reply, sounding startled.

“Good. With your help, we’ll be done faster. Right now, we need a bunch of buckets. Have to drain the old gas out and run it through the purifier. Once that is started, we’ll have to change all the filters and the battery. Got any spares, or will we need a run to the parts store?” Frack said, prancing a little in place, eager to get started.

“Got some spares. Let’s see what we have. Frick, get Silverwing and tell her to round up as many buckets as we can spare for gas recycling. Let the recycler know we have to divert supplies from the generators for a while. Have Roscoe come to see me here as well. Got it?” the shaman told the boat captain.

Frick saluted the shaman. “Got it all, Chief. Will pass the word,” he said before turning in place at a marching stomp before heading out.

Smoking Horn muttered to Frack, who was trying to hold back a laugh, “Are all you Nebraskans this crazy?”

“Can’t speak of them all, but I can say we are!” Frack said with a chuckle. “It's our coping mechanism.”

Smoking Horn looked at Frack dispassionately, a pungent cloud of tobacco and cherry coming from his pipe. “Okay. Parts room is over here. Let’s see what we got.”

By sundown, the truck was ready to go, except for a full fueling. Frack and Smokey had drained, purified and replaced about eight gallons of gasoline, changed the oil, battery and fuel filter, and test started it. “Now, all we need to do is fuel it, load it, and get it down to the breezies,” Frack said after cleaning off his primaries.

“You DO know what you are doing. Plus, I was able to follow your instructions with no problem. Were you a teacher Before?” Smoking Horn asked.

Frack ducked his head, to hide the blush spreading through his ears. “Well, not officially, but the boss at the garage I worked at let me do my thing, showing people how to do the simpler stuff on their cars. Happier customers come back, and after thirty years working there, we had a lot of repeat business,” he admitted.

“You do good at what you do, Frack. I don’t know why they say you’re dumb. You show me you’re not. I would like to…” Smoking Horn’s speech was interrupted by Frick racing into the garage.

“Fred’s unconscious!” he shouted. “Wakinya’s about to do something!”

“Like what?” Frack asked.

“Don’t know, but his little horns are glowing! Come and see!” Frick shouted before turning and getting out of the garage, Frack and Smoking Horn hard on his hooves.

They got to the bedroom section of the Sofa in time to see Wakinya pawing at the carpet on the floor, his whole body covered in a white glow, chanting something, Frieda and the rest of the Painted Sofa crowd obeying the instructions of the noted writer of books on explosive ordnance disposal, Stan Wellback. “What is he saying?” Frick asked.

“Asking medicine spirits to guide him in helping his grandfather,” Smoking Horn said in a low voice, listening intently. “He’s invoking some powerful spirits.”

“Will they come when called?” Frick asked, sounding worried.

“We’ll find out,” Smoking Horn replied.

Author's Note

In case nobody got the Wilbert Harrison bit from last chapter, it refers to this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8tZO97uhyE

Sorry about skipping last week. Got new computer (one that has not stalled yet), and have been feeling a lot of fatigue. Not to mention running around town. Takes time to use mass transit.

I'm glad I originally specified every other week, weekly IF I had chapters done. Oh- got the first dose of the Pfizer covid vaccine today. As a long-hauler, I can just hope it does something beneficial. Other than increased fatigue, nothing yet. May that remain the case.

Until next chapters, readers. Hope you like. Don't hesitate to comment, good or bad. I gotta learn somehow, right?

Now to let Desmond out of his cell...

Chapter 7: Doctor, Florist, Big Bear, Chief!

Everyone watched as the white glow that surrounded Wakinya reached out and surrounded Fred, who was lying on the bed on his left side, apparently asleep. The white condensed around Fred, leaving a visible shimmer around his nose, ears, hooves and the tip of his tail. Wakinya wobbled back a few steps, saying something in Lakota before keeling over.

“What did he say?” Freida asked as she went over to check out the little white buffalo.

“He said that he managed to get the medicine spirits to hold the poison in abeyance for no more than two days. Fred will remain asleep until then, not getting better, but not getting any worse,” Smoking Horn told the group. “As for exactly what he did, we’ll have to ask him.”

Freida looked up from the buffalo calf. “He’s asleep now. Knowing what he did, my best guess is that he will sleep until the morning. If someone will show me which one is his, I’ll see about getting him to bed.”

Firebrand stepped forward, surrounding Wakinya in her orange-red glow. As he was lifted up, she said, “I got this, Freida. Easier for me than you.”

Freida got up onto her feet. “That it is. Thank you, Firebrand,” she said. “Anyone got dinner started yet?”

A glance went around the room several times before Roscoe spoke. “Not yet, Freida. We’ve all been busy, even the shaman. Just slipped our minds.”

“Well, since we can’t order take-out, we had best get started. Roscoe, you get started with fish and venison, I’ll start a corn and oat porridge, plus whatever else I can scavenge up. Any bread left?” Freida asked, taking charge of dinner. Nobody questioned that, not even Smokey.

“There is, plus a good mass of dough ready to go. Rolls or loaves?” Trail Tracker, the white unicorn, asked.

“Rolls will work. Faster, too. Get started on those, Trail. Come on, we got some hungry folk waiting!” she snapped, and everyone hopped to, to get ready for dinner.

Frick moved to a quiet corner, pulling his radio from its sheath. “Cornhusker One to Cornhusker Five, do you read?” he asked.

“Cornhusker Five. Go ahead, One.” Fran answered.

Frick brought Fran up to speed on the day's events, and asked for a status report on the boat, which was dutifully given. He then asked if she wanted dinner brought over, seeing as they would not be back until late. “No need, One. I’ve been prepping venison between other jobs. Won’t be hard to do up a steak or two before dark. Thanks for the offer, and I’ll wait until you get back before turning in. You forgot your keys again, One!” Fran teased gently.

“Five, remember, I’m a unicorn. I don’t need keys!” Frick said with a laugh. “Cornhusker One out.”

“Cornhusker Five out.”

Once that detail was marked off, Frick went out to join the others in dinner preps, moving several tables into position so everyone could gather round, finding and setting up tableware, getting drinks ready, both hot and cold.

Over dinner, plans were laid for that night and tomorrow. Freida would spend the night with Fred, and if the antidote worked and Fred revived, she would bring Fred back to the boat and take over as Duty Officer, relieving Frick. The truck refueling would continue through the night until the tank was filled, and in the morning, Frack, Smoking Horn, Roscoe, Cold Current and Sunflower would take the truck to Menard’s to find some portable greenhouses, bring them to the Breezies, and set them up. Smoking Horn, as leader of the local group, would be in charge of talks. Frick would lead scavenging efforts with Trail Tracker to resupply both Deliverance and the colony.

On the way back to the boat that night, Frack said to his brother, “You’re getting a good grip on this leadership stuff, bro. You thought of some things I never would have considered.”

Frick nodded, the light from his horn making shadows move. “It’s fairly simple, little bro. First off, I ask myself what I would want. Next, what the others want, then what do we all need. With that as a foundation, I pick the right person for the job and get the hell out of their way,” he explained. “I don’t need to be a hero every day. WE need to be heroes EVERY day, at least until we get to Maasvlakte.”

Frack thought about what his brother had said for a moment or so as they walked. “You know, I think I see where you are coming from. I know you can handle the computers, but you let Fran handle most of it, because she’s better. You can cook, but you let Freida do much of it, because she’s better. You can work on cars and motors and such, but you let me do it because I’m better at it. You put Fred over us because we all listen to him. How did you get to be captain again?” he asked.

“Two reasons, bro,” Frick said quietly. “First, I owned Juliana, and I was in command of her. Two, no one else seemed eager, so I fill in as boss the best I can. Another thing about being in command is being responsible for everything that happens to my crew. Your pain is my pain, your joy is my joy. Fred getting stung stings me as well. We saved three lives that night, but I do not intend on trading Fred’s life. We will all get out of this alive!”

“I believe you, bro. You got me this far, right? We got a lot of years left together, so get used to me like this, cause I’m not going anywhere without you,” Frack said, draping a wing over his brother’s barrel.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, little bro,” Frick said as the lights of the Deliverance came into view.

“What are brothers for?” Frack asked.

The next day, early, Fran and Frack went back to the Sofa, Frick remaining behind, chatting with the WSU. At the Sofa, the potion was not yet ready, so the two joined in with the Sofa crew getting ready for the day’s chores. At about ten, the potion had changed color, signaling it was ready for use. Steady Pace brought in the vial. “Okay, now, how do we administer it?” he asked.

Wakinya, who by now was awake, looked up at the earth pony. “Let me wake Grandpapa up. When he’s awake, he can drink it, then he must rest some more while the potion works. After, he will be very hungry, so be ready,” he said in Lakota while walking up to Fred’s still form on the bed. He got up on his back hooves, leaned on the bed, and touched Fred’s right forehoof.

The white glow that was surrounding Fred drained off him, back into the little white buffalo, who let out a gasp. “Grandpapa, wake up! Drink the potion!” he said urgently. Steady Pace hoofed the potion vial to Fred, who took it in a hoof and quickly drank it without opening his eyes. He shuddered some before falling limp again.

Freida gasped and raced up to Fred, checking him over. “That potion is sure potent! Pulse rapid but strong, breathing solid. Nicely done, Wakinya!” she said in approval, looking at the white buffalo.

Wakinya muttered something in Lakota before falling to the floor, fast asleep. “What did he say?” Fran asked.

“I quote, ‘Being a medicine buffalo is hard work!”, Smoking Horn said as his almond cloud picked up the little buffalo and put him to bed.

“Nice to see he has a sense of humor,” Silverwing said.

“So we’re a good influence on him, and he knows it,” Freida said, smiling as best she could around her beak.

Once Fred was resting, Fran told Frick what was going on, and that they would be a while relieving him. Frick’s response was to carry on with the day’s plans, and to keep in touch.

Frack gathered his crew and started the truck, which lit off with a happy sound. “Off to Menard’s!” he called out once everyone who was going was safely aboard. Carefully, he backed out of the garage onto the street, then headed east to the hardware store.

Fran took her bicycle and headed out, intent on doing more scavenging. She had with her a radio, the bicycle cart, and a .45 with two magazines in a belt pouch. She fully intended on coming back that afternoon, no matter what.

It was about one in the afternoon before Frack and his crew arrived at the Breezie hideaway. After introducing Mrs. Harkness to those who had not met her before, he asked where they wanted the greenhouse they had brought. “This way!” The breezie shrilled, leading the crew to an amphitheater-like arrangement on the shore of the lake. Behind the topmost row, what appeared to be a tall tree stump stood, with a hole in it. “This entrance to our home. Can you build around it?”

Frack looked around at his crew. “I don’t see why not. The only problem I see is getting in and out without losing heat. You got an idea?” he asked.

A whitish-yellow breezie flew up to Frack. “Leave the bottom row of glass off the entire building. Will give us all lots of room to go in and out!” it squeaked.

“By your command…” Frack droned. The breezies all giggled while the Kaycee troupe once again looked at Frack like he was more than a little bit nuts. How right they were…

While the builders built, Smoking Horn led Mrs. Harkness to the truck, to look over some other supplies they had brought, like planting soil, seeds, and pots of various sizes. “Why do you bring all this to us?” Mrs. Harkness shrilled. “It’s nice, we can use them, but why?”

“Simple,” Smoking Horn said, taking a puff on his (unlit) pipe. “We want to be friends. You have offered us teaching in potion-crafting. I have spoken with Raven, and he says this is something we should look into. With your permission, once the weather warms, we will move from Kansas City to here, to be near you, so we can learn. What do you think? Acceptable?”

“Yes, very much so. Houses nearby, a town further north. You pick what best for you, we live here. We make lives better for each other, yes?” Mrs. Harkness buzzed.

“Of course. Making potions will lead to trade opportunities. When I told the others about the poison joke, they became very excited. They need a lot, but they cannot get it to grow fast. If we can get past the monsters, we will be doing well,” Smoking Horn replied.

“Be very careful when you do. We do not yet have the makings for the poultice that will reverse being petrified. We know what we need, just don’t have the ingredients. Much of what is needed are in these seeds, not all. We will tell you how to find it.”

“We will listen to you, for you are wise in the ways, while we are not. Not yet, anyway,” Smoking Horn said, again puffing on his pipe.

“Oh, go light that thing! Cherry scent is very pleasing!” Mrs. Harkness shrilled.

“Thank you for allowing me to,” Smoking Horn said gratefully as a tiny red cloud formed in his pipe, followed by a plume of smoke. “Helps me think.”

“I know the feeling. So, you pledge amity between your tribe and mine?”

Smoking Horn looked right at Mrs. Harkness’ face. “I have heard that there are too few of us to even think of trying to be hostile with each other. Now, others may think differently. I figure, why not play nice with others? If they return the kindness, well and good. If not, then encourage others to leave, one way or another. What do you say?”

“Our position is similar. You want to live together in peace, we will do the same. If war is what you want, war you will get. Breezies do not ‘play fair’, as others have said,” Mrs. Harkness said seriously, lighting on Smoking Horn’s nose as she spoke. “I’m glad we agree. From what our former human, Harcourt, says, we breezies know how to practice something called ‘asymmetric warfare’. When one is a breezie, one has to cheat in the face of the Bigger Folk.”

“Former human?” Smoking Horn asked.

“Yes. We have a former human who is now a breezie. He found us, and is happy to be with us. He teaches us a lot about how humans were. We teach him about how breezies are now,” Mrs. Harkness told the unicorn shaman.

“Okay, then. Let me tell you of the life of the Sioux and other tribes at the hands of the White Man,” Smoking Horn said before going into a long story, Mrs. Harkness paying rapt attention. Soon, more breezies came to listen. By the time the greenhouse was done, just about the whole breezie clan was perched on anything handy around Smoking Horn, listening.

Frack waited until a pause in the story before speaking up. “Greenhouse is built and ready for inspection!” he called out, startling many of the breezies, showing how attentive they were to Smokey. “A quick check and we better head back. I don’t know about you all, but I’m in need of dinner and a nap. Not just me, so’s the rest of us!”

“That is a good reason to pause storytelling until my next visit,” Smoking Horn said, stretching some.

“I see the greenhouse around the home tree. What about others?” Mrs. Harkness squeaked.

“We all focused on the main building, Mrs. H, because we felt that was the most important job of the day. If you like, we can come back tomorrow or the next day to build the smaller greenhouses. You think of where you want them, and we’ll put them up,” Frack told the breezie, the rest of his assembly team behind him, lending support to the words.

“Good! Will give us time to talk to the sphinx. We can get a lot of good starts from him. He brought many good plants from Equestria when he brought us over,” Mrs. Harkness shrilled. “He likes his privacy, so he does not encourage visitors. But, it will not hurt to ask.”

“Sphinx?” Smoking Horn asked. “From what I know of them, they are big, powerful and reclusive. Don’t know of any around here.”

“He’s here. He picked a spot by the river. Our last chat, he said he will move on in the spring. He hates the cold,” a blue-green breezie told Smokey.

“Why didn’t you stay by such a big, powerful protector?” Frack asked.

“We like gardens,” Mrs. Harkness told him. “We found this one ready. He preferred his own. Plus, he has too many guardians that think of us as a light snack.”

“We’ll call on him. Don’t you bother him. He may get upset,” the blue-green breezie said in warning tones.

“How can we bother him if we don’t know where he is?” Roscoe asked.

“Roscoe, we no go looking for trouble. Let trouble find us, then it will no longer be trouble,” Smoking Horn said in flat tones, effectively shutting off debate. “We go home now, and return tomorrow to finish work. Deal?”

“It’s a deal!” Mrs. Harkness squeaked before she and the breezie pack took off in a swarm and headed for the greenhouse, flying low to go in through the bottom then back up to the hole in the tree stump.

Smoking Horn then looked at the assembled ponies plus one. “Load up and move out.”

Once back at the Painted Sofa, Smoking Horn was pleased to see everyone busy. Fred and Freida were back aboard Deliverance, Frick and Fran were working on the computer and radio system they planned on leaving behind for the Kaycee crew, the thestral family were gathered around the old world-band radio, listening to the WSU, all with notepads. Many of the Kaycee crew were absent, out on scavenging runs. Wakinya was asleep on his pad. Silverwing came over to Smoking Horn to deliver her report, and Frack found Frick to deliver his.

Frick nodded as he paid attention to his brother. “So the breezies are happy with us?”

“That they are, bro. We’re going to meet tomorrow to get some more done. They’ll call upon a sphinx living nearby. Where’s Fred and Freida?” Frack asked.

“We brought him back to the boat a couple hours ago. He’s still sleeping, but the wound is visibly healing and he’s not shaking any. Freida’s got the boat, and Fran and I are wiring these components together with Trail Tracker, so she will know how to assemble and disassemble the console when they move,” Frick explained.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Frack asked.

“Can’t tell you. I think someone else is handling that. Take a look about. Fran and I plan to work until dark, then head back to the boat for the night. Push comes to shove, we can eat there. Fran did some scavenging earlier. Got a bunch of our favorite drinks,” Frick told his brother.

“Finally, some good news!” Frack exclaimed. “Think I’ll raid the stash, then look into fueling the truck for tomorrow. Let me know when it’s time to go home!”

“Will do, bro,” Frick said, focusing back on his wiring for the radio console.

Later that night, the crew was back on the Deliverance, having dinner. Fred was finally awake, digging into his third helping of rice and beans on bread. He had been brought up to speed on what had been going on, and he was asked about what he felt.

“It was quite interesting,” Fred told the group. “Last I remember was falling asleep on the big bed there at the Painted Sofa, and next thing I knew several birds were near me, and Wakinya was there, telling me that he wanted to see me awake, that I had promised him some more fishing lessons. After that, I was waking up here aboard Deliverance, feeling much better, but hungry. I can’t tell you for sure what he did, but I’m glad he did it.”

“So am I, Paw,” Freida said, refilling Fred’s plate. “He’s going to be one powerful kid, in time.”

“That he will, Maw. I’m proud to be his grandfather.”

“You should be,” Fran put in. He’s a good little fellow, who will become a good big fellow. Your influence is obvious on him. At least to me. He’s gonna go places.”

“What makes you say that, Fran?” Frack asked.

“Fred reminds me of my own grandfather, my mother’s father. He was pushing seventy, but still active around the community. He’s been living with us since I was little, and I always looked up to him, as did my brothers. He’s a fine teacher, and when he Returns, I know he will be a good influence to someone else,” Fran told the group.

“Got any pictures?” Frack asked.

Fran nodded. “After dinner, okay?”

Frack finished his can of VC. “Sounds like a plan.”

Frick then sat straighter in his chair, a cue everyone picked up on. Privately, the others called it ‘putting on his Captain hat’. “Okay, everyone, the plan of the day for tomorrow will be for Fred to have the boat, Freida can stay until she is sure Fred will be alright, then she can join the rest of us at the Sofa. Fran, you and Frack go meet the breezies, I’ll finish with the radio and computer console. Need to allow for part replacement by people who have not done it before. Any questions?” he said to the group.

Fran was the first. “Why do you want me to go help the breezies?” she asked.

“Two reasons. One, I figured you can use some time out in the sun and two, getting to meet the breezies. I want your opinion of them,” Frick said. “Next?”

Freida this time. “You say I can stay here, but if I think Fred will be alright on his own, I can head out, right?”

“Correct, Medical Officer,” Frick told her. “If you’re confident he has recovered, then I won’t worry about Fred being on his own. I know Fred does not like to be mother-henned by anyone other than you, so a day of rest for him, and you, if you so choose. I’m a captain, not a doctor!”

“I’m not a doctor either, but thank you for the vote of confidence, Captain!” Freida said with a smile in her voice.

“When will you go meet the breezies, bro?” Frack asked.

“Tomorrow or the day after, depends on what else is going on. I’ll focus more on the colony than the breezies. IF they ask for a radio or a computer, I can try, but otherwise, what can we do to help them that is not being done already?” Frick asked rhetorically.

“You have a point, Frick,” Fred said in support of his Captain.

“I always do,” Frick replied, brushing a hoof along his horn. “Freida, think you can give me a mane trim tomorrow morning? I’m getting shaggy.”

“Why not tonight, before we do night duties before bed?” Freida asked.

“I’ll get in line, too,” Frack said. “Big bro first.”

The next morning, Frick, Frack and Fran proceeded to the Painted Sofa. Once there, Frack and Fran went with Smoking Horn, Firebrand, Steady Pace, Cornflower, Cloudseeker and Cold Current down to see the breezies and finish construction. Frick found that setting up the radio and computers went far faster than he expected, Trail Tracker having proven she did follow instructions on how to set it up, with tags saying which wire went where.

Finding little else to do there, Frick declared that he would go out looking, to find more useful goods. Morgan, the teen thestral colt, asked if he could come along. His mother agreed, and so Frick had Morgan help hitch him to a cart to carry their finds in. “Don’t have any pockets, so we wing it, right?” Frick said to the boy.

“No, Captain. I wing it, you light it, right?” Morgan asked, flapping his bat wings some.

“That’s one way to look at it. Did Frack show you how to get off the ground yet?” Frick asked as he picked a direction and headed out.

“He did. We all got up and off, flying some, learning not to flap unless we need to. He said once we know we CAN, there’s no reason not to, because it’s possible. Flying’s fun, but we need hats during the day,” Morgan explained.

“You prefer clouds or dark, right?”

“Yes. If all else fails, hats and shades. Bright sunlight is uncomfortable,” Morgan said, shielding his eyes with a wing.

“Let’s go see if we can find something to help. Antique stores this way could have something.” Frick said, leading out.

When the crew heading for the breezies arrived at their destination, they were greeted by a startling sight. Inside the greenhouse that was built the day before, hundreds of plants were in clay pots of various sizes, many of which Cold Current didn’t recognize. There were so many, one could not open the door and step inside without getting a pot underfoot. Several breezies fluttered out of the hole in the post, down under the glass panes of the greenhouse, and up in front of the ponies et cetera.

“Hi! Talked to the sphinx yesterday after you left. He gave us a selection of medicinals, herbals and useful plants, plus a complete guide to making healing potions. Translations next week, we are working on them. Hard to write in big print. We get it done,” Mrs. Harkness squeaked to the bunch. “Think we can get little greenhouses set up today, clear the big one out?”

A glance went around the group before Smoking Horn answered. “If you don’t mind fewer stories today, we can. I’ll have to help, so talking and working is not as easy to do than working or talking alone,” he said after a puff of the cherry-tobacco smoke which made the breezies happy.

“Who’s the Abyssinian?” a greenish-yellow breezie squeaked, flying up to Fran.

“Francesca Anita Vasquez, late of the University of Nebraska, now Tech Officer of the Deliverance. And who are you?” Fran asked the breezie.

“You can call me Chopin, (pronounced CHOP-in) of the Rose clan. Mrs. H is the boss, I’m just a member who likes to talk with Abyssinians. Do you like music?” the breezie asked.

“Yes, I do. I’m not great at performing, but I do appreciate good music. Would you like to hang out with me while I work?” Fran asked.

In reply, Chopin settled between Fran’s ears. “Thank you for the gift of your company, Francesca Anita Vasquez.” the breezie squeaked, getting a good grip on Fran’s headfur.

“Just call me Fran, Chopin. So, while I’m working, tell me about the breezies. How did you come to be here?” Fran asked as she went with Frack to start building one of the smaller greenhouses.

“Rose Clan of breezies long live under protection of the great old sphinx Amon-Thoth. When worldgates opened and Amon-Thoth decided to come here, Rose Clan went along. Yes, many monsters here, but much time for us to establish base, get strong, and deter monsters from harming us before Amon-Thoth decides warmer pastures go. We breezies like it here, and with new friends, can focus on more than just surviving,” Chopin explained as Fran and Frack framed and assembled a greenhouse, the Kaycee contingent also assembling a greenhouse, in a different direction from the Deliverance team.

“Did Amon-Thoth bring all these plants here?” Fran asked as she tightened bolts.

“Yes, last night. Mrs. Harkness went to speak to Amon-Thoth, and Amon-Thoth agreed to give breezies starts of all medicinals he has in his garden and bring them here. Not much space for all, but we manage. Now, do you all have the wit and wisdom to raise and make medicinal plants and potions?” Chopin asked Fran.

“I should say yes, but my crew will not be staying here very long. We have a long trip ahead of us, to go to where more ponies are assembling. The others have a reason to stay. We’re just passing through,” Fran explained.
“Sad. Deliverance ponies are kind and just,” Chopin squeaked, settling deeper into Fran’s headfur.

“Thank you for saying so, Chopin. We just do what we feel is right. Best way to live with ourselves as we learn about all the changes to this old world.”

“Think maybe one of the Rose Clan can join you on your quest?” Chopin asked.

Fran stopped moving after she set a glass pane in place. “Chopin, that decision I cannot make on my own, we will all have to discuss it. Why would a breezie want to travel with us into the unknown and unknowable ahead?” she asked, honestly curious.

“We need to learn about outside as well, Fran. What new threats to breezies are here? Amon-Thoth wants to move to a warmer place come springtime, but all Rose Clan breezies want to stay here. With Smoking Horn and his ponies, our chances get better. Move from Equestria to Earth we have done. No! More! MOVING!” Chopin shrilled. “This has been decided in council!”

“If we decide to accept a breezie passenger, who would it be?” Fran asked, going back to lining the roof of the greenhouse with glass.

Chopin was quiet for a while as Fran worked. Gathering his breath, Fran assumed. Then, Chopin peeped out one word. “Me.”

“You? What did you do, draw the short straw?” Fran asked.

“No. Drew a seven-card punga playing low-ball,” Chopin admitted with a sigh. “Teach me to go all-in.”

“How did you learn to play poker?” Fran asked, surprised. “You have poker in Equestria?”

“Something similar. Harcourt teach us human way. Just what does ‘card sharp’ mean?” Chopin asked.

Fran let out a laugh that got Frack’s attention. “It means someone so skilled at playing cards, one can’t tell if he is cheating or not. Also, one so good he does not NEED to cheat, but makes it look like he is!”

“You talkin’ about me?” Frack called out.

“No, not hardly!” Fran called back. “You’re not dumb enough to cheat! You’re good at what you do!”

“Glad you think so!”

After the greenhouses were put up, Fran and Chopin were loading one of them with plants from the big greenhouse. “Just leave them in their pots for now. They will keep for a few days before transplanting.” Chopin advised.

“That’s good to hear,” Fran said with an armload of plants. “Rushing is not a smart thing to do.”

“Careful with the blue-flowered one,” Chopin advised. “That’s poison joke. There’s an antidote for it, but we don’t have it yet.”

“That’s the one that the WSU wants plenty of. Slow-growing, they said,” Fran grunted as she knelt down to put the pots on the ground.

“It is, but it’s essential to high-power healing potions and salves. There’s a big patch up by the big city, but it’s well-guarded,” Chopin warned. “Plus, touching it is very risky. Let unicorns gather the stuff. Touching it long enough will cause it to affect you until you make up some. The effects are quite humiliating.”

“You know, you’re giving me ideas on how to gather it. Hopefully, more than enough for the WSU to make potions until they can grow their own,” Fran mused.

“How do you plan to do that?” Chopin asked.

“Drones.”

Not the next day, which was spent refueling and reprovisioning the Deliverance, nor the day after, which was limited due to rain, but the day after that when the combined force gathered at Kauffman Park. All unicorns but one were involved (Trail Tracker staying behind), along with Frack, Fran, Roscoe, Margo and Morgan. Five large sealable containers were brought as well, to put the poison joke in, both flowers and whole plants. Frack parked within sight of the place, on the south side.

“The place has got a friggin’ wall around it!” Frack exclaimed as he parked the truck.

“That’s why we brought the drones, Frack,” Smoking Horn told him. “Morgan will fly one over the site, looking for the poison joke and the inhabitants. I, for one, don’t want to meet up with a cockatrice or a bugbear.”

“That’s why we brought the rifle and the shotgun, Smokey,” Frick said. “If one of them shows up, we blast. If I have to, I’ll blast.”

“Just be careful, bro… we don’t want to turn the garden into a hole in the ground.” Frack said somewhat solemnly, for him.

“True. Morgan, are you ready to launch?” Frick called out.

“Ready, Captain! Antennas mounted, video feed up, batteries one hundred percent, we are go for launch!” the teen thestral called out from his position in the back of the truck, controller in front of him, wingtips on the controls.

“Backup drones ready?” Frick asked.

“Backups One and Two are on standby, ready to launch as needed!” Margo said from beside her son.

“Recon Drone One, Launch!” Frick commanded.

Morgan activated his drone, flying it out the back, then up and over the truck. “Drone One away! Visuals clear!” he called out as all those who could crowded around the three laptops which carried the images being sent by the drone.

Morgan had the drone climb high enough to clear the wall around the garden, then put it in a slow spin to look around. “Okay, the blue flowers in that shape around that one lake here has to be the poison joke,” Smoking Horn observed, tapping the laptop screen with the stem of his ever-present pipe.

“Right,” Frick agreed. “Best way for us is to go in here, through the southeast corner, up this path to here, turn left and there we are. We grab all we can, then turn and execute plan Romeo Lima Hotel back here and in.”

“Romeo Lima Hotel?” Smoking Horn asked, confused.

“Run Like Hell, Smokey!” Frack said with a laugh. “Simple snatch and grab, then run hard so we won’t get stoned!”

“You two have weird terms for everything, don’t you?” Smoking Horn asked, with less confusion than before.

“Don’t sweat it, Smokey!” Fran called from the back. “It’s just the Lost Boys at it again! Just go with the flow!”

“Good advice, Fran,” Smoking Horn grunted, thinking to himself that while these ponies sure do bring a lot of good, and have Raven’s favor, they sure are WEIRD!

“Morgan, fly along the path at about head-height. Slow pace, camera in a constant swivel. Want to see if there is any animal life here, like we were warned about,” Frick ordered.

“Got it, Captain!” Morgan called. He slowly flew the drone back and forth three times, seeing no animal life, but suggestions of nests among the shrubbery.

Frick and Smoking Horn looked at each other. “Ready?” Frick asked.

“Let’s get this done,” Smoking Horn agreed.

“Morgan, bring Drone One back to base. Ready Drone Two for launch. Raid team, take positions outside. Recovery team, make ready here. Margo, take overwatch. Bro, keep the motor running, make ready for fast getaway. We are going live, people!” Frick called out, his cap badge flashing in the sunlight, said cap pinned in place on his now-neat purple mane.

Various reports of ‘Yes, Captain!’ echoed through the truck. Frick, Smoking Horn and Firebrand took their positions by the gate. Fran and Roscoe were next to them, Roscoe with an AR-15 rifle, Fran with a shotgun loaded with five rounds of 12-gauge double-ought buckshot. Margo took off, rising to a hover somewhat left of the gate, almost in a direct line with the poison joke patch.

After two minutes, Frick said to Smoking Horn, “Do your thing, Smokey!”

Smoking Horn concentrated, and a white cloud billowed from his horn, flowing up the path and into the trees on either side, a strong scent of honey evident. “Shallow breaths, everyone! Anaesthetic should not harm you, but don’t take chances! In and out… now!” he shouted before taking the lead, Frick and Firebrand behind and alongside, Fran and Roscoe at the rear, weapons slung, but ready.

The group charged in, turning to get to the poison joke patch, which shone blue in the bright daylight. Once there, Frick and Firebrand started gathering plants, while Smoking Horn picked as many flowers as he could, all with their magics, not physically. They gathered all they could carry before sprinting back to the truck and putting their haul into the sealable plastic boxes. A second trip was equally successful, Smoking Horn replenishing the anaesthetic smoke on the way back in to gather.

After the second round-trip, Fran was getting uncomfortable. Something bad was going to happen, but she could not tell what. Nervously, she glanced to the western part of the garden. She thought she saw a bluish shape forming as the unicorns returned, but she could not be sure, the wisps of cloud getting in her way.

“Raid team, we have activity on the west end. A bluish form, taking shape there,” Margo reported over the radio from her overwatch position.

The five stopped their activities to look west. A form was congealing out of a blue mist, a large bearlike form, with a pattern of dots on its flank that looked familiar.

“An Ursa Major?” Frick said incredulously, looking at the appearing form. He was about to say something else, but something that sounded like a small thunderclap echoed through the garden. All saw a feline-shaped hole in the cloud being blurred by the wind of its passage. They also noticed Fran was missing. The small thunderclap was followed by a low guttural roar, a sound Frick vividly recalled from a childhood trip to Yellowstone Park, the low guttural roar of an EXTREMELY upset bear...

“RUN FOR IT!!!” Frick called out, and everyone ran, the unicorns holding what they could grab quickly, which wasn’t much.

Everyone piled into the truck, and Frack hit the gas, roaring out and turning right after leaving the gardens. A solid thump on the roof indicated Margo had landed there and was hanging on.

After dropping his load in a box, Frick went up front. “Where you going, bro? This isn’t the way home!” he said, watching his brother drive like a lead-footed fool, meaning his normal way of driving.

“You think I’m going to lead that thing home? No, I’ll take the scenic route, thank you very much!” Frack called out as he rounded a turn at a bit more than safe speed, the furniture truck rolling some before settling back on its wheels.

“You’re definitely not dumb, bro… I would not have thought of that…” Frick grunted.

“If I find a place to hide, I’ll take it!” Frack shouted, accelerating some more down a straight stretch.

“Good idea!”

It wasn’t long before Frack parked the truck in a large parking garage somewhere on the UM-KC campus. Getting deep as he could inside it, he let the truck idle. “This is your pilot speaking,” Frack said. “We have come to a complete stop. Please take this time to put away all spilled luggage while your pilot recomposes himself for the next dash. Please send the drinks cart to the cockpit. That is all,” he gasped before collapsing in his seat.

“Fran, are you all right?” Morgan asked the tortoiseshell Abyssinian curled up at his hooves.

“Answer unclear, ask again later…” she muttered between shivers. Morgan just patted her with a hoof.

“You okay, bro?” Frick asked, looking worriedly at his brother, slumped behind the wheel.

“Just let me get my breath back, bro. My breath and my nerve. Think we got enough?” Frack managed to ask.

Frick looked into the back of the truck, where Roscoe (wearing gloves) and Firebrand (with her magic) were picking up every loose poison joke petal and plant, stowing them in the sealable boxes. “I would say we got a good amount. We’ll have to take pictures and send them to the WSU to find out for sure,” he told his brother.

“I sure hope so,” Frack breathed. “‘Cause there’s no way in hell am I going to do THAT again! Period! You ask me to, and I swear I’ll jump ship!”

“Message received, Franklin. Get your breath back. We still have to get back home,” Frick told his brother, while using his magic to pull a can of Vanilla Coke out of the cooler, open it, and put it in Frack’s hooves, who wasted no time chugging it down before dropping the can and leaning back.

In the back of the truck, Smoking Horn took stock of the haul. “Put the petals and plants in separate totes,” he told his tribe folk before going to where Fran lay at Morgan’s hooves, curled up on the floor in a tight little ball, her shotgun sticking out at an uncomfortable angle. “Relax. They are behind us. They won’t get you here,” he said gently, petting her with his smoke.

“Ursa Major was not happy we were running around near her den. Mama bear needs her sleep,” Fran managed to say.

“Why is that?” Smoking Horn asked.

“Ursa minor is coming soon. Mama bear angry,” Fran said before shaking some, uncurling, and getting away from Morgan’s hooves. “There are times I hate myself. This is one of them.”

“Why do you say that, Fran?” Morgan asked.

“I’ll be surprised if I didn’t break the sound barrier. Plus, I think I banged my nose against something,” she said as she stood up.

“You did. The side of the truck, there,” Morgan said, pointing to a distinct noseprint in the side panel of the truck.

Fran looked at the spot, confusion evident. “Why down there?” she asked.

“Because you went to four feet while running,” Margo told her from where she sat. “I have read that Abyssinians will do that when speed is required.”

“Carramba… madre de dios...” Fran whispered, looking at the noseprint, feeling her own nose, and possibly going pale under her fur, but no one could be sure of that. The truck soon filled with the unmistakable scent of urine, boldly proclaiming someone had wet themselves, but that acrid aroma was soon replaced by a thin smoke that smelled of cherry, vanilla and very good pipe tobacco, which soon had the ponies and whatnot inside calmed enough to continue. Smoking Horn, of course, remained inscrutable when asked later.

Several hours later, both groups were together on Party Pier, at Frick’s request. Some of the Deliverance’s home-canned goods from Fremont were brought out for dinner, along with home-made tacos and tortillas, with some venison and spiced squirrel for the carnivores, and Fred-caught fish for the pegasi. Also, several stashed bottles of liquor were brought out.

“Ponies, and assorted others, you may wonder why I have called everyone here tonight,” Frick said in a carrying voice to the whole crowd. “The reason is to announce the Deliverance will be setting sail on our mission in no more than three days time. Having been assured of a reasonable weather forecast through then, I wish to let everyone know that the Deliverance will be available tomorrow for a hunting, fishing and gathering expedition upriver. We will also have our wish list to have filled out too, in exchange.

“The next day will be ship prep, fueling, watering, oil changing, final provisioning, and rotating shifts for the crew so we can visit on our own, because the next morning we will be pulling out. We have enjoyed our stay here, but our destination is the Netherlands, and the WSC. We will still remain in contact, because I’m sure we won’t want to forget each other,” Frick spoke, addressing everyone. At the end, he was looking straight at Fred, Freida and Wakinya, standing together as a group.

Wakinya leaned against Fred’s leg and said something in Lakota. Fred started laughing, nuzzling the little white buffalo. “He said he can’t forget me and Freida. The old bird won’t let him!” The whole crowd started laughing at that, the happy laugh of friends together.

From his realm, Raven watched the party on his sixty-inch panoramic crystal ball. “Looks like I chose right with those people. Reliable, generous, yet never too serious with themselves or anyone else. I like beings who can laugh in the face of danger, and still come through with the goods,” he said to himself before sighing. “They’re gonna need it.”

As the party was breaking up, Frack suddenly came alert, despite the three shots of bourbon he had consumed during the party. “Hey! Who says I’m dumb?” he shouted.

“WE DO!” everyone there shouted.

Frack blinked. “Well, at least it’s unanimous…” he muttered as he went to make a burrito from what was left of the spread.

Author's Note

Chapter seven complete, finally. On to Chapter eight, and the start of the Saint Louis arc. That will keep me busy for a while.

Long-term Covid is a real bitch. My strength is best described as 'sub-optimal', as is my stamina. Some days, too much work to write. Other days, 1500-2000 words. Get my second Covid shot next week about this time.

Don't get me wrong, pones. I really enjoy the writing. I'm just glad I said every other week, to allow for low stamina. Not even CPAP is working to make me feel more awake in the mornings. I'm going to stick this out until completion. By now, it is number three on length list of my tales, and with the next chapter, it will replace 'Restart' as #2 on the length list.
Why did I choose 7K chapter lengths? Was a good idea at the time. Besides, if I make the chapters too short, I tend to lose track. Damn brain fog...

Time for me to let Doomsday Desmond out of his cell. He really should stick to his storyline... it's what he's here for. Heroics in PaP is a different kettle of fish than Equestria City.

Chapter 8: The Dog and Pony Show part 1- the Ponies

Sunday, January 17th, twenty-sixteen, dawned gray in Kansas City, low clouds dropping a thin, freezing drizzle threatening to change to snow. Frick and Frack were inspecting the Deliverance, one last check before pulling out, heading downstream. Smoking Horn was walking with Frick, while Cold Current, the hippogriff, was in the water inspecting the boat’s hull.

“Been good having you here, Frick. You and yours have done more for me and mine than I ever realized needed doing,” Smoking Horn said after a puff on his ever-present pipe. “Before, we knew what we wanted, but didn’t know how to go about getting it. Now, we do.”

“Believe me, we’re happy to help. You’re comfortable with that small boat we picked up on Friday and refurbished?” Frick asked, pointing to the small fishing boat moored upstream of the Deliverance, with ‘River Bitch’ painted on the stern.

“Comfortable operating it, yes. When we move down to the breezies, we should get it all the way down the Blue River and find a mooring spot not far away. That and a truck or two will help in supplies. Thanks again for the Friday jaunt. The deer and grain will be a big help,” Smokey said through a cloud.

“Hey, we’re happy to help. You may want to move sooner than spring, though. Wakinya will want a place to run around in, and that school across the street would be a good place to shelter. Will keep a tribe warm and dry for a while, right?” Frick observed.

“How about by the first of March? We’ll want to get another truck up, survey the river, and scout the area for supplies. The nearby farms will keep us fed and occupied once spring hits, and the breezies will make good neighbors.”

“Don’t forget to transmit the potion books when they are done writing them. I know both we and the WSU want them, and you have more than enough space to build a potion factory,” Frick pointed out.

“I’ve already talked to the WSU about that. Hopefully they will be able to send a truck or train out here to K C to pick up potions, and find something suitable to swap for it. If I had my fingers, I would cross them,” Smoking Horn grunted, holding up his right forehoof.

“I know the feeling, Smokey. I know you have our numbers and emails, and we have yours. Take care of you and yours, and keep in touch. What with Margo and Morgan with you, the computers and radio are in good hooves. We will miss you, and we have a long way ahead of us to go to meet up with the WSU. Look after Wakinya, okay? I’m sure the kid will want to chat with Fred and Freida some time.” Frick looked up to see Frack waving a wing to get his attention. “Looks like all is ready to go,” he said, looking back to Smoking Horn and raising a hoof for a bump, which was returned with a smile.

“Be well, Frick, and may Raven guide your path to your new home. Keep in touch,” Smoking Horn said before releasing a massive cloud of cherry-scented tobacco smoke, which Frick had to admit was a good scent to inhale, despite being a life-long anti-smoker. Sometimes, personal biases have to take a back seat to co-operation.

“Thank you, Smokey. My best to the tribe, and may we never lose touch,” Frick said before shouting, “Qa’pla!”

“What’s that?” Smoking Horn asked.

“Klingon for ‘success’ or ‘victory’. Never was a Trekkie, was you?”

“Nope. Never appealed to me. Safe trip!”

With the Deliverance heading downstream, Frack sat next to Frick in the pilothouse. “What’s our plan of attack, bro?” he asked the Captain.

Using a pencil held in his magic, Frick tapped one of the display screens, the one showing the Missouri River. “I’m figuring Saint Louis on Wednesday morning. Today, get down to Glasgow. Tomorrow, Jefferson City. Tuesday, get near to Saint Louis but stop short. That will allow us to check the motors over Tuesday afternoon, to see if we need anything for them. Wednesday, find a place to moor and fuel before digging for supplies. If we find anything worth stopping for heading this way, we’ll stop and top up,” he told his brother.

“Sounds like a plan. Not many cities right up on the river, so not too many places to stop. Looks good enough to me. What do you know about Central Missouri, bro?” Frack asked.

“About as much as you do,” Frick replied.

“Meaning, nothing that’s not on the maps. Well, we’ll manage. Relieve you at noon?”

“Yep. By then, we should be well past Kaycee and we can open the throttles some. Water’s high and fast.”

“So will we. Let’s see what those Cummins diesels can do!” Frack said enthusiastically.

“AFTER we round the next bend. Why bother the manticores?” Frick observed.

“You have a point, bro.”

Below deck, Fran sat in her cabin, arranging a spot for Chopin to call her own. “Hope you can be comfortable on the voyage, Chopin,” she said to her as she arranged a box for the breezie.

“I hope so too, Fran. I know I can subsist on the different forms of flour you grind, and a small bag of all four types will keep me going a long time, along with access to water. Mind if I trim some of your mane, to line the nest with?” the little breezie squeaked.

“Can you do so, or would you like me to?” Fran asked, a hand going up to her almost-black headfur.

“You can. Some pieces about the length of my body will work, plus something warm and soft to sleep on.”

Fran dug in a drawer, pulling out several squares of flannel from the sewing supplies kept there. “How about this?” she asked, putting the pieces where Chopin can reach them.

After rolling on them carefully, Chopin nodded happily. “Perfect!” she shrilled, making her approval clear.

“Okay, then. How big a space would you like for your own?”

Chopin flew around the cabin, looking about. Flitting around the closet at first, then to the chest of drawers, then looking at the bed. She flew back to the chest and tapped the bottom drawer with a hoof. “Here. Take this piece off, and hang a sturdy cloth over the front. That will give me more than enough space to be happy!”

Fran smiled in relief. Something simple, that she didn’t have to ask for help doing. “Okay! Let me get it emptied first and the gear stowed, then I’ll get the tools. Until then, you can use my pillow, okay?”

“Okay!” Chopin squeaked, almost super-sonically. Fran got right to work getting things just so for her friend.

Shortly after that, once the Ameristar Casino disappeared around the bend in the river, Frick picked up the ship’s intercom microphone. “Attention everyone!” he called out. “Increasing speed to fifty percent power! Trust me, I know what I’m doing!”

Slowly, he eased the throttles forward. The big Cummins diesels came to excited life, rumbling happily as they started to show what they were capable of. The boat settled a little to the stern and the bow raised as it picked up speed, a wake forming on the surface of the river. With the drizzle, Frick did not want to go to full power, because he still had to watch for snags and drags in the river, high as it was. “Now, this is the way to travel!” he shouted happily as the Deliverance started to move faster.

“You sound happy, bro!” Frack shouted into the pilothouse.

“Because I am! Check out the provisions on the foredeck and the fly bridge. I want to be sure they’re tied down tight!” Frick yelled back, clearly thrilled to be moving at speed.

“Right!” Frack called back before heading to the foredeck. There, he found the big tubs of wheat, corn, oats and barley were still firmly in place, lids on tight, and Fran’s bicycle likewise secure. With a few strong flaps, he went to the fly bridge, slipping under the firm ‘roof’ to land on the deck. That took some doing to accomplish, because of the smoked meats hanging from the cover and the bins of food strapped to the deck, along with the auxiliary generator, gas cans, and whatever else was stashed up there. Frack only stayed up there long enough to determine everything was in place before hustling down off the bridge, because the smell of meat was both persistent and repulsive.

He made his way to an intercom panel. “Outside stowage secure, Captain! Anything else before I freeze my chibogies off?” Frack asked.

“Nope! Come in and get warm! You relieve me after lunch, so get ready for that!” Frick responded over the intercom.

“Be right in!” and he was, because the intercom point was right by the saloon aft door, and he wasted no time coming in, ignoring the fridge and going straight for the coffee mug Frieda was holding out in her claw, handle turned for Frack to grab it, which he did. “Thanks, Freida!”

“Welcome, Frack. Lunch in ninety. Go take a nap,” Frieda commanded. Frack guzzled down his coffee and did just that.

The chill, drizzle and mist lasted all the way through Wednesday, slowing them up enough so they missed their target stops every single day, overnighting in different towns than they had planned. Once, they just anchored out in the river. That night, Frick posted night watches, just in case. Nothing happened that night, but everyone aboard understood why he posted the night watches, including Chopin.

An hour before sunset Wednesday afternoon, Frick parked the Deliverance in a narrow stretch of the Missouri River, south side of something listed on the charts as Johnson Island, upriver of Saint Louis. After dropping anchor, he announced over the intercom, “Attention all hooves, paws and what-have-you. While the sun is shining, everyone turn to for boat inspection! You have your assignments, and dinner won’t be served until we are done! That is all!”

After starting the auxiliary generator and shutting down the main diesels, Frick started his duty- hull inspection fore and aft, including the fly bridge. Frack checked the engines, Freida the saloon while fixing dinner, Fred below decks and Fran in the pilothouse, checking the main computer.

Over dinner, Frick took everyone’s reports and thought fast before speaking. “Okay, everyone. Tonight, Fran and I are going to go over some maps, to find some places where we can fuel up at, find more grains and other sundry supplies. Once that’s done, we will all turn in, to get an early start tomorrow. We’re already behind whatever schedule we do have, thanks to the weather.

“I’ll do the check-in with the WSU before I go to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll take the first watch, Fred the second, unless we find what we want early, in which case I’ll take volunteers for a shutdown watch. Fred, time for our evening services before cleanup.”

Fred stood up. “Thanks, Frick,” he said to the Captain before doing the prayer service. He surprised everyone by adding at the end, “...and no pranking us, you old bird! Look after your pack there, this is OUR job! Amen!”

“What was that about, Fred?” Frack asked.

“Just letting Raven know I have not forgotten about him, Frack. I’m sure he appreciates the attention,” Fred replied, the pair moving to the back of the saloon while the others cleaned up.

The next morning over breakfast, Frick had a plan set up for the fliers. “Freida, I want you to check out the north bank of the river. We’re upstream of St. Charles, so your job is to do a fast scan of the riverbank area, looking for signs of life and quick plunder. Frack, you take the south bank. There’s a place across from Saint Charles that is listed as ‘LaFarge-North America’ on my charts. It’s a sand and gravel pit, but they have dock areas. What I’m looking for is a place to refuel. If you give the go-ahead, I’ll pull in there and we’ll set up the purifier.

“As soon as you two leave, I’ll start up and follow slowly, just making steerageway downstream. I’ll be listening to the radio, and if you find anything, we’ll pick up speed to meet you. Got it?”

“From each according to their abilities, to each according to their needs,” Frieda quoted.

“Just that, Freida,” Frick acknowledged. “You two are the fliers, so you go ahead and scout. You take a weapon with you, in case you see some game. We still have plenty, but if we’re going to be refueling, it will take us all day and into tomorrow to do. I want to see if I can do Firebrand’s method of smoking meats for you and Fran.”

“Got it, Frick,” both Frack and Freida replied simultaneously. The pegasus and griffin looked at each other and smiled some.
“Get started now. I’ll do the breakfast dishes,” Frick told the two.

Together, the two flew along the Missouri River, going east, then north then east again as the river took its own course. “Okay, it’s after we pass the I-70 bridge that we should start looking closer. If we pass a third bridge, we overshot.” Frack called over to his aerial partner.

“Right. Want me to stick with you while searching for the fuel point, or separate then?” Freida asked.

“Let’s stay together. If there is a suitable fuel point there, it won’t take long to find, then we can explore Saint Charles together. I need another couple of cases of VC!” Frack called back.

“Plus we’re low on Fred’s favorite tea. He’s been burning through a lot since we left Kaycee,” Freida confided.

“Is Fred all right?” Frack asked, concern evident.

“He will be. He’s just got a lot on his mind, what with the talents Raven bestowed on him, and some concern about Wakinya. At least Smokey or CC takes him out to a field for some running around. That makes the little buffalo happy, charging around an empty lot. Fred and I are proud of the little fellow,” Freida admitted.

“As well you should be. He looks up to the two of you. Why didn’t you and Fred ever have kids?” Frack asked. “One of you incapable?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Freida said quickly. “It’s just that we were more career-oriented. Neither of us wanted to be away from our jobs long enough to raise children properly. Besides, I had plenty of kids to look after at the library, and Fred did the same at the church. That was enough for us.”

“I can believe that. Besides, we kept each other busy, looking out for us all. The Fearsome Foursome, fifty-plus years together. Not even the end of the world could keep us apart!” Frack laughed.

“That’s the truth!” Freida laughed in agreement.

It wasn’t long before the two came upon the gravel pit Frick had highlighted on their maps as a possible fueling point. Frack and Freida made several overflights of the river’s south bank, seeing the rock loading conveyors, the barges tied up alongside the docks, but… no tugboats and most worrisome, no fuel points. “Well, so much for that idea…” Frack said, disappointed.

“There's bound to be some sort of fueling station around here somewhere…” Freida started to say before Frack cut her off.

“I’m sure there is, but I didn’t see any possibilities other than this place. We’re down to forty percent in the tanks, so we’re not in ‘aw, shit’ mode, but we are in the ‘it’s beginning to get worrisome’ mode right now,” Frack sighed before looking at the north bank. “Let’s see if we can find a Wal-Mart or a Sam’s Club”

“Sounds like a plan to me. You're going to call in the findings, or shall I?” Freida asked.

“You do it. I can talk and fly, but it’s easier for you than me,” Frack admitted.

“Okay, Just go into a hover for a moment,” Freida said as she got her radio out of her flight bag. “Crusher to Enterprise.”

“This is the Enterprise. Have you and Geordi found anything significant, Doctor?” Frick asked.

“Yes. The hoped-for dilithium station is not here. Just a cargo facility for barges. We’re about to check the city on the north side. We’ll be in touch,” Freida said with a straight face. She knew how Frick and Frack thought, and she was as big a sci-fi fan as they are, just not as extreme with it.

“Understood, Doctor. Good hunting! Enterprise out,” Frick said to them in his best Picard imitation.

“Okay, let’s get looking. Overfly the shore end to end, then go in a block or two and try again?” Freida suggested as she put her radio back in the bag.

“Good idea. Let’s start over there at the east end and work back,” Frack replied, pointing with a wingtip before heading that way, Freida in close formation.

They got to fifty feet altitude before starting the sweep. “Athletic center…” Frack snorted.

“Rock climbing building…” Freida said, pointing a claw.

“Parkland, parkland, parkland…” Frack muttered.

“Ameristar Casino… I hate Ameristars… Wait, what’s that?” Freida said, pointing at the casino garage.

“What’s what?” Frack asked, circling to see. He looked to see something on the roof of the garage before he let out a screech, an arrow piercing his right wing.

“Frack!” Freida shouted, immediately flying under him to catch him on her back. “Hold your wing still! Let me do the flying!”

“Okay, Freida…” Frack told her, pain apparent. Freida got her radio back out.

“Frick! Priority one! Medical emergency! Frack’s taken a shot to his wing. Go to full power and I’ll meet you!” she squawked, diving some to pick up speed before leveling off some twenty feet above the water.

Frick, while he liked to play his way through life, knew when to be serious. “Deliverance going to full power. I’ll alert Fred. Can you land on the after deck?” he asked, throttling up, the sound of the engines coming over the radio.

“Meet me there and you can lift him off my back. Out.” Freida said, letting the radio hang by its strap from her wrist, concentrating more on flying. She could hear Frack struggling to maintain his composure. “Frack, it hurts and I know it. Ten minutes max, and we can get it out. At least it didn’t skewer your side.”

“Yeah, but it still hurts. What I want to know is who’s shooting arrows so damn well? We had to be at least a hundred yards off, maybe more!” Frack panted, the talk helping him get through the pain of the arrow through his wing and trying to hold it still while in the air.

“Someone who doesn’t like pegasi, for sure. Just breathe, it won’t be long. Fred can heal you. I have a case of your poison stashed away. Should still be nice and cold,” Freida told Frack as she flapped some, boosting her speed, banking slightly to the right as she followed the river.

Five minutes later, as she banked left, the Deliverance came into view about a thousand yards ahead, rounding another bend. “I have you in sight, Freida!” Fran said over the radio. “Is that an arrow?”

“Sure is! I see you ahead! Get below and take over from Frick so he and Fred can meet me! Frack’s losing blood, I don’t know how much.”

“Doing,” was Fran’s response. Freida could see Fran heading off the fly bridge.

Three minutes later, Freida was hovering off of Deliverance’s stern as Frick lifted his brother off her back. She flew to the fly bridge to land as Frick cut the arrow in half with bolt cutters and removed said arrow from Frack’s wing. Fred touched his nose to Frack’s hoof, and a white glow suffused over the pegasus, who sighed in relief before falling asleep.

Frick lifted Frack off the deck, through the saloon door, and onto the table. Freida came in and grabbed the first aid kit, the small one, before inspecting Frack’s wound. “You heal good, Fred. If it wasn’t for the blood on his feathers, I couldn’t find the wound,” she commented.

“Just glad it worked, Maw. It did hurt him, but I think it is more from surprise than any real damage. Frick, let’s put him to bed. He’ll wake up hungry in a few hours,” Fred cautioned.

Frick did just that, putting Frack on his bunk in the cabin they shared below before coming up and asking for a full report, which he got from Freida. “A doglike form with a bow and arrows from the roof of the parking garage of the Ameristar? Makes me want to avoid casinos, period,” he said after the report.

“I don’t think so, Frick, not this time. If this dog is like us, he or she is going to need some help,” Fred said from his seat. “This bears looking into, plus we know the WSU is interested in any colonies we find.”

“Pardon me for being nervous about this, Fred. One of us has already been shot down. What do we do, go in under cover of gunfire?” Frick asked rhetorically.

“Not quite, but close,” Fran called from the pilothouse. “Go in with guns visible, and shoot only when necessary. In this case, warning shots will work.”

“You sure, Fran?” Frick asked.

“No, just a feeling I got, is all. I also feel it will be darkest before the dawn, and it’s only midnight,” Fran answered.

Frick looked over at Fred and Freida. “She’s fitting right in,” he said in low tones.

“She’s smarter than her looks,” Freida said quietly before speaking a bit louder. “Get the maps and let’s figure out what to do next.”

Half an hour later, the Deliverance anchored on the south bank of the Missouri, just past the I-70 bridge. Frick put the motors in idle and called the others to the saloon. “Okay, here’s my plan. Freida, you’re high guard. Fran, Fred, you two climb the bank and take the bridge across to explore the casino. Chopin, you can go if you choose. I won’t make you.”

“I stay here, watch over Frack. Keep him out of the way while the rest of you work,” the little breezie shrilled from her ‘patch’ on the table, a felt-lined plastic storage box just big enough for her to fit in comfortably, with a ledge for food and drink to be placed for her convenience.

“I like that idea, Chopin. Fred, how long will he be asleep?” Frick asked.

“He’s been under half an hour already. My best guesstimate is that he will wake up within the next hour,” Fred reported.

“Okay. Chopin, when Frack wakes up and achieves something close to mental clarity, have him come up and see me. By then, we’ll have some idea of what’s going on, I hope.

“Let’s get to it, ponies and others. Solve this, and we can go back on our quest for fuel and supplies,” Frick concluded, getting up, as did the others. Fran and Freida went to the arms locker for weapons, while Fred went down below to get his saddlebags.

Fred and Fran made their way from the riverbank up a path to the side of I-70, to find some things they were not expecting, like there being a guard shack-like small building sitting alongside the westbound lanes of the interstate, a gray and green unicorn stallion inside the guard shack, and a large-bore shotgun held in the unicorn’s green magic pointed right at Fran. “I would suggest you two not take another step. Especially you, two-foot!” the unicorn said with an Oklahoma twang and a snarl that was clear to all. “What are you two doing here?”

“Looking for who shot a friend of ours through the wing with an arrow from the Ameristar garage roof. I’m Fred, first mate of the trawler Deliverance, parked down under the bridge. With me is our Technical officer, Fran. What be your name, good sir?” Fred asked, in tones which managed to mix kindness with power of the type that did not want to be woken up.

“Virgil Parker, from Tulsa originally. I was passing through Saint Loo on my way to Chicago, stopped for the night here, and woke up like this. Where are you from?” he asked, his gun not wavering at all.

“Columbus, Nebraska. My wife and I, along with two friends, were going out fishing one Saturday in May, and we appeared in the same spot about a week before Christmas. We took the fishing boat downstream to outside of Omaha, where we found a better boat, and we found Fran in the same neighborhood. We’re bound for New Orleans, then along the coast to Florida. If I may ask, why the gun and why are you pointing it at Fran?” Fred asked after his explanations.

“Because there’s a pack of no-good two-foots across the river who refuse to stay on their side of the river and come here to steal whatever they can get their grubby paws on! There ain’t nought more than eight of us over here, and we is just barely hangin’ on by our fingernails here!” Virgil said with desperation in his voice. “We don’t need them damn two-foots nickin’ from what we built up!”

“How long have you and the two-foots been at odds with each other? You can put the gun down. We won’t bite,” Fred said calmly.

“Just as long as the two-foot don’t come any closer, I will. First time in weeks I’ve had the chance to jawbone with someone I didn’t know, someone not part of our group.” Virgil said, lowering the gun. Fran obediently stepped back a few paces, putting Fred between her and the unicorn. “That’s better.

“Now, to answer your question, I’ve been back here since sometime in July. Up until my semi ran out of gas, I did a lot of scavenging. Right now, we’re living at the food bank, all eight of us. The damn two-foots started their thieving in August. Not once did they try to parley, just take. Since we put up the shack, no more thefts.”

“When did you put up the shack?” Fred asked.

“First of November, when Sadie showed up. That allowed one of us to keep watch while the rest scavenged for the food bank. Found Zach last week, makes eight in our bunch. Ah got the duty here because I know how to shoot a gun AND hit a target,” Virgil said with a bit of pride.

Fran then dared ask a question. “Do you have any contact with the outside world?” she asked.

Virgil literally stopped in his tracks, eyes shifting some as the question hit him. It took him a minute to answer. “To be honest, all we know of the ‘outside world’ are the damned two-foots across the river here and half-a-dozen four-foots down around the Arch. We’ve met up a couple of times, but Suzanne handles that. She’s the boss.”

“Tell you what. We’re anchored down on the river here, under the bridge. I’m authorized by our captain to offer two ponies here dinner tonight, just so we can talk. Come armed if you feel you should, but just remember. We’re armed, too. We’re perfectly happy to make friends, but we won’t stand for back-stabbers,” Fred declared like a preacher from the pulpit calling down the wrath of God on a misbehaving congregation.

Virgil stepped back a pace. “Hold on there, minister! We may not like two-foots, but we have reason. Plus, the occasional dog pack makes life here after dark a bit miserable. What I can do is to bring Suzanne the news of your arrival when I get off shift, and let her know of your presence. If she wants to, we can make it over about an hour after dark. Is that too late for you?” he offered.

“You don’t have any radios?” Fran asked.

“Miss Fran, we don’t got anything of the sort. Of the eight of us, we have two of each type of horse, a zebra and a griffon. Suzanne’s the oldest of us, then me. I was a truck driver, Suzanne worked at an advertising firm, we got a high school student, an elementary school teacher’s aide, a bag lady, a photographer, a cab driver and Mary Sue won’t say. She refuses to talk about before, hell, getting her to speak at all is an effort!” Virgil exclaimed, tossing his head with a snort, letting his uncropped greenish-yellow mane fly about in annoyance. “None of us knows anything about how to start everything up again!”

“Tell you what, Virgil,” Fred said in quite reasonable tones. “You and Suzanne come over for if not dinner, then coffee and cake with the crew of the ship. I’m sure we can come up with some sort of a deal to get you started. First off would be getting a radio setup so you can talk to, or just listen to, the WSU, the World Seafarer’s Union. Just that alone can help you get up from nothing to something which will lead to more things, right?”

“I should think so. I’ll try to talk Suzanne into it. If we’re not at your boat by two hours after dark, we won’t be coming. I’ll be back on guard duty shortly after sunrise, if you want to talk. Maybe I can bring Suzanne out here then, if not tonight. Deal?” Virgil asked, still a bit wary, but seeming more open to talk.

“Sounds good to me. If you’re not at the Deliverance tonight, we’ll bring you a thermos of hot coffee in the morning. Okay?” Fred offered.

Virgil immediately broke out into a big grin. “For hot coffee, it’s a deal! Trying to use a camp percolator over a bonfire is so iffy, I just gave up trying. I miss my coffee!”

“I’m sure we can come up with a way to get you SOME power, at least enough to run a coffee pot!” Fran said with an equally bright smile.

“You may be a damned two-foot, but you come offering, not taking. If only the other two-foots were more like you,” Virgil sighed.

“I have an idea!” Fran said from her position behind Fred. “It’s early still, so let me dash back to the boat, get a thermos full of coffee, and bring it back here? How do you like your coffee? We have sugar, powdered milk and creamer packets!”

Virgil’s eyes lit up in delight, his weapon slipping back into its holster in a flash of greenish light. “Miss Fran, that is a most excellent idea!” he said, his joy obvious. “Creamer and sugar, please!”

“See if there are any other breakfast leftovers too, Fran. Bring the big thermos, four cups, and check on Frack for me. He should still be asleep,” Fred asked.

“Right, Fred! Be right back!” Fran said before dashing off.

“Eager, isn’t she?” Virgil asked, watching Fran sprint to the river.

“She’s young, not even twenty-five yet. She learns fast, though. I’m proud to be one of her teachers,” Fred told Virgil before saying in the same tone of voice, “If nothing’s going on across the river, Maw, come on down.”

“Maw? Who’s Maw?” Virgil asked.

“My wife of forty years plus, Freida. She’s been overhead the whole time, circling, observing, and listening,” Fred explained, tapping the radio slung on to his saddlebags. “The Captain and Maw have been listening the whole time. Maw’s a griffin.”

“She can fly? How? Zach hasn’t figured out how to yet, nor have our pegasusses! How does she do it?” Virgil exclaimed, totally surprised as a shadow passed over him, causing him to look up and see Freida coming in to land beside Fred, putting a wing around her husband.

“Simple enough, Virgil,” Freida said, turning her spectacled face to the startled unicorn. “God gave us wings, and if He didn’t mean for us to make use of them, we would not have them to begin with. Once I convinced myself of that, all it takes is practice.” She then reached up with a claw and removed the tape holding Fred’s microphone open before turning her own radio back on. Feedback is a bitch, ya know.

“You’ve just got to teach Zach, Carol and Lena how to get off the ground. That will impress the hell out of Suzanne if we can get fliers out of this!” Virgil said, joy and hope coming to his voice.

“That’s part of our purpose on this voyage, Virgil, to teach what we have learned to those who want to learn. That way, we do God’s work as well as our own,” Fred said plainly, like saying the sun was out from between the clouds, which it was.

“Were you a preacher before all this, Fred?” Virgil asked.

“Nope. Sexton of Saint Isidore’s church in Columbus, Nebraska. Been there since the seventies. Never did have the desire to truly preach, just live my life by His laws and teach by example,” he explained as paws could be heard approaching.

Fran ran up the small slope, wearing a backpack and carrying a large thermos. “Sorry I took so long, Virgil. I made a fresh pot before coming back. Got rolls, molasses, and two tubs of porridge. I hope you like!” she said as she put the thermos down, took off the backpack, and dug out four plastic coffee mugs.

“Go ahead and pour yourself some coffee, Virgil,” Fred advised as Fran then pulled out the creamer and sugar packets. “You know how you like it.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Virgil exclaimed as he got the top off the thermos, poured himself a mug, then adulterated it to fit his taste before taking a slow sip. “Coffee…” he sighed happily.

“If I may make a suggestion, Virgil, how about you tell me where Suzanne is, and I’ll fly over to talk to her. Maybe we can bring her over to the Deliverance to parley today,” Freida suggested.

“Good idea!” Virgil said. Using a hoof, he pointed northeast. “Go around this building here and you’ll find Rider Trail. Follow that as it curves to the right, then you’ll see a double-laned road. That’s Earth City Expressway. Follow that and you’ll cross Saint Charles Rock Road. Follow the expressway and you’ll see two buildings on the left, one big, one small. The smaller one’s the food bank. Suzanne’s the zebra. She’s in charge. Don’t mind her, she is a bit pushy, but she is a good leader.”

“All right, then. Let me head over that way while you have breakfast. Fred and Fran will keep you company,” Freida said as Fran got out rolls, molasses and their four-grain porridge. “Wish we had butter, but…”

“We got butter and eggs. The food bank’s cooler is well-insulated, and it kept butter and eggs fresh until we found them. I’m sure she’ll be willing to dicker,” Virgil said as he coated a roll with molasses before taking a bite. “Hey! That’s fresh!”

“Baked it yesterday. Now, time to get moving!” Freida said before moving clear and leaping into the air, her wings getting that first good flap in to get her airborne.

“My, my, my…” Virgil said after swallowing.

Freida, following the directions she was given, soon found herself over the food bank. What made it easy to find was that she spotted two ponies pulling a cart heading that way, so she decided to circle it, watching the two ponies. One was a unicorn, white in color with a red mane and tail, and a pink horn, with a cutie mark of some sort of reddish circle, Freida could not quite make out. The other was a pegasus, mottled blue and black with a blonde mane and tail and gray wings. That one did not have a cutie mark. After a few moments, she decided to land in front of them, by the building they were heading for, the food bank.

“Hello, everyone!” she said brightly after she had paws on the pavement. “I’m Freida Halvorsen, from Columbus, Nebraska. I met your gate guard up on the interstate and he said to come here and talk to Suzanne. Can you show me where she is?”

The two ponies stared at Freida, mouths open, for a good ten seconds before the white one managed to pull herself together. “Yes. She’s inside. May we unhitch ourselves first?”

“Of course. I would like to see how you do it. Who did the sewing?” Freida asked. She was able to tell the stitching, while undeniably strong, was also crude.

“At first Suzette and Virgil. After I got here, me,” the unicorn explained as her horn glowed pink, and a pink aura formed around the buckles, undoing them and letting the straps go loose before the two ponies stepped out. That’s when Freida noticed that the unicorn’s cutie mark was that of a single red apple.

“Gets the job done, I can tell. I’ve been doing a lot of sewing for the crew of our boat, but I don’t mind it. Only two of us have hands,” Freida explained.

“Just how do you fly?” the pegasus asked once the straps came off her. She flapped her wings with a pout on her face.

An authoritative voice cut in from the building. “Right now, I’m the questions, Lena. Turn around, stranger, and do it slowly. I have half a mind to kick your tail right now just because it feels good!”

Freida made no obvious sign, other than putting a front paw in her belt pouch. “Oh, I’ll turn around, because meeting the boss is what I came here for. But, we don’t hold truck with bullies. We have a score to settle with the ones across the river!” Freida said with a snap that could only come from decades of experience rassling up kids in libraries. She quickly spun in place, to see a zebra holding a metal baseball bat high. With a glare in place on her griffin face, she pulled her pistol out and pointed it squarely at the zebra’s midsection. “I doubt you would forgive me if I fired, but I know God would. Now, put that down and let sense rule your mind, not misplaced anger!”

The two ladies locked eyes for a good half minute or so before the zebra relaxed. “I hope you don’t mind if I get defensive for my people,” she said as she put the bat away in a crude sling strapped to her side.

Freida put her pistol away. “Why should I? Virgil was the same way, but he soon saw the right of things. My husband and the boat’s technical officer are chatting with him now, over coffee. Captain’s in charge onboard the boat, while the Engineer should be waking up any time now. Dogs across the river shot him through the wing. If I may ask, how are your folk doing?” she asked in a much calmer tone of voice. From behind, she could hear the two ponies exhale rather noisily.

“Do you have a doctor among your crew?” the zebra asked. “Zach, the griffon we found last week, isn’t doing well. He’s weak, despite a good appetite.”

“I’m an EMT, and Fred’s a healer. How much red meat do you have?” Freida asked. “Us griffins require meat in our diets to thrive. Fish will work too, especially for pegasi.”

“Canned, we have. Fresh, no. The cool box is maintaining a temperature just below freezing, but much of the meats, fish and poultry already got freezer-burned. Just how do you manage to fly?” the zebra asked before hitting her face with a hoof. “Forgive me for forgetting my social graces. I’m Suzanne Blakeslee, formerly an advertising agent for KMOX radio. Behind you are Sadie MacLeod, a former elementary school teacher’s aide, and Lena Roth.”

“I’m Freida Halvorsen, formerly Chief Librarian of Columbus, Nebraska. Our ship’s captain, Frick Larsen, was the chief Engineer of KZEN radio in Columbus. Our Engineer, his younger brother Frack, was a mechanic for a garage in town, my husband Fred was sexton of Saint Isidore’s church, and our latest recruit, Fran Vasquez, was an I.T. employee for the University of Nebraska in Omaha. I’ve been asked by Frick to see if anyone wants to come by for coffee and cakes. Anyone willing?” Freida asked.

“Did you say COFFEE?” all three ponies squeaked in surprise and desire. Suzanne went on with, “Every time we try a percolator on a charcoal grille, we never manage to get it right. How do you manage it?”

“With a regular Mister Coffee. We have power on the boat. We can teach you how to clean up fuel, both diesel and gasoline, so you can run generators. We can also offer fresh meat and fish for your pegasi and your griffon. What do you have to trade?” Freida asked.

“More canned goods than you can shake a stick at, plus butter, eggs, cheese, cans of flour, sugar, and a lot of government surplus stuff. We found a warehouse full of that stuff early on, and we managed to move a lot of stuff that needed cool here. Back then, it was just me, Virgil, Carl and Mary Sue. We worked hard getting our stocks built up here,” Suzanne explained.

“While we not only have tech knowledge, fresh meat and whole grains, we have contacts with the outside world. Once you have power, we can get you set up with the WSU. We’re heading out to meet them, eventually to settle at the WSU headquarters in Rotterdam. A seagoing merchant fleet trying to keep themselves running. Interested?” Freida asked with a smile.

“You better believe it! But, what can we bring to the table?” Suzanne asked.

“That will be up to you and the WSU to determine. But not quite yet. May I check in with the ship? Please pardon us, we are a bit eccentric, but the eccentricities keep us sane in this crazy world,” Freida said a touch lamely as she got her radio out of her pack.

“What do you mean by ‘eccentric’?” Suzanne asked.

Freida gave Suzanne a ‘you’ll see’ look as ske keyed her mic. “T’Pol to Archer,” she called.

“This is Captain Archer. Go ahead, T’Pol. Did you make contact?” Frick asked.

“Yes, I did. They have plenty to trade, and are willing to talk. Is Trip awake yet?”

“Yes, he is. He’s trying to get the blood out of his feathers, and is raising a bit of a ruckus. I think he’s earned the opportunity to vent.”

“I have to agree, Captain. I would like to make a suggestion, if I may, and that is to bring the ship up to that LaFarge place we scouted earlier. No fuel, but it does have mooring facilities and it is closer to their base than where you’re parked now. Plus, you have Trip as a guide.”

“Point made, T’Pol. Let me call Hoshi and Malcolm to let them know before pulling up stakes. Deal?”

“Sounds good to me, Captain. Meet you in what, an hour?” Freida asked.

“That should be enough time, T’Pol. Anything else I should make ready?”

“Just be glad I insisted on bagging some deer earlier. There’s a griffon here showing signs of malnutrition. We got enough to swap, and put on fresh coffee!”

“Gotcha. This world seems to run on fresh coffee! See you soon! Archer out.”

“Later, Captain. T’Pol out.” Freida said before restowing her radio.

“Now I see what you mean by bizarre. How can you do that?” Suzanne asked.

“Frick, Frack, Fred and I grew up together in Columbus. We’re all sci-fi addicts, but Frick and Frack ‘play the game’ more than Fred or I do. Fred and I have been married over forty years. Treat life like a game, but know when to drop the game and get things done. It’s how we get along despite everything,” Freida explained.

“Let’s get inside and I’ll show you around. You tell me what you can use in trade, okay” Suzanne asked, actually smiling.

“Sounds like a deal. Let’s get to it.”

Author's Note

Chapter eight and the start of the Saint Louis arc. One casualty already, fortunately minor, but who knows what evil lurks on the north shore of the Missouri? The Shadow knows... snickers ...and so do I. The rest of you are going to have to wait a week or two.

Don't worry, going down the Mississippi, it's only going to get worse.

Personal PSA note- if you have not been vaccinated for Covid-19, DO IT! I was lucky to survive my first encounter. The second dose had me flatbacked for almost a week, but the side effects are worth the protection bestowed.

Until next time!

Chapter 9: Dog and Pony Show part 2: The Dogs

Lunchtime found the Deliverance and its crew tied up at a dock in the LaFarge-North America gravel pit complex, with a cookout setup provided by the Saint Loo ponies dockside, the auxiliary gas generator up on the fly bridge running (to get some use in, the thing hadn’t been run since they installed it) with an extension cord running down to a power bar on the table, where four new coffee pots were busy brewing away hot coffee for everyone, the entire Saint Loo pony contingent visiting, even the gate guard, Virgil. Frick and Suzanne were in the pilothouse, chatting with Sandra at the World Seafarer Union, Frack was attempting to teach the three Saint Loo flyers to get off the ground, while Fred, Freida and Fran kept busy cooking and chatting with the rest of the ponies. Fran caused a bit of a stir with the Saint Loo ponies, but some words from Virgil, Fred and Freida rapidly calmed any two-foot hostility in the hometown ponies, aided by the obvious fact that Fran was a CAT, not a ‘thieving dog’.

After a while, Fred managed to get Mary Sue, the large yellow and pink earth pony, off to the side. “I’m told you don’t like to talk much, Mary. I can tell something is bothering you. I will extend to you the offer to listen to you, to get whatever problems you have off your mind. Consider me a traveling priest, ready to hear your confession, and guide you to a better life,” he told her in quiet tones, so no one could overhear.

Mary looked at Fred, a light slowly filling her eyes. “You mean it. You’re willing to listen to me? To help me?” she whispered.

Fred nodded emphatically. “Yes,” he said, summoning up his connections to his gift, searching out the right god for her guidance. “You need help, you know it, but do not know how to get it. Your past haunts and embarrasses you, yet you don’t feel comfortable enough to confess your past to anyone here. I will listen to you when you wish to speak, and I will find the right deity for you. May take a day or two.”

“A deity?” Mary asked, sounding startled. Fred then went into a lengthy explanation of how deities have returned to the Earth after the Event, his own encounter with Raven, and the gifts he was bestowed. “That can happen to me? Why?”

“Because I can feel in you the capacity to go out and do as I do. You just need the right deity to guide you. I, personally, represent no one deity, but am acting as a ‘talent scout’ for any deity who wishes a speaker here on Earth. You should hear from one, if not tonight while you sleep, then tomorrow. That’s the easiest way for deities to make first contact with mortals,” Fred explained before taking a deep cleansing breath. “Face it, Mary, deities are like most other folk, unwilling to exert themselves unless they can see how they could profit from doing so,” he said in such a bland voice, Mary could not help herself and started laughing. Fred soon joined her in doing so.

Ashore, Frack had his three students gathered around him. “After that lunch, I’m sure you all can do with some exercise. You’ve heard me talk about how we flyers require additional protein, the pegasi needing fish and gryphons needing red meat, right, Mister I-crave-Bambi-meat?” he said in lecturer tones, looking right at Josh, the teenage classic eagle/lion griffon, who looked away, blushing a little, licking his talons to get the last of the venison off them. He did have an entire haunch to himself, which he had to admit filled a craving in him he didn’t know he had. Teenagers, bottomless pits, all of them.

“Now, I’m a bit surprised that none of you have yet to learn how to fly on your own,” Frack continued on with his lecture. “Sure, flying is impossible. Wings are too small. Our bodies are too heavy to get off the ground. Is that right?”

After getting a rather ragged agreement from his students, Josh, Carol and Lena, he promptly barked back at them, “Horse hockey! That’s a HUMAN way of thinking, and, looking around,” he stared at each one in turn while pacing about. “I don’t see no humans about! Just two ponies and a griffon! You got those wings! They’re not decorations! Now, get your asses off the ground and come get me, you useless sacks of flesh! Get up here and try to lay a hoof on me!” After that, he leaped into the air, flexed his wings, and rose up, steadily flapping. “Get your damn asses up here! NOW!”

By this time, the three left on the ground, Zach, Carol and Lena, were absolutely PISSED that some stranger would come in here and yell at them like that, which was Frack’s whole intent. The three spread their wings and started flapping, ineffectively, at first. “Eyes on me! Which of you has got the guts to punch me one? Right here!” he taunted, tapping his muzzle with a hoof.

Of the three, the first one to achieve liftoff was Zach, the griffin. With a squawk of rage, he made it off the ground, flapping furiously, aimed right at Frack, who neatly sideslipped and let the screaming griffon go by. Carol and Lena looked at each other, shrugged, and focused on getting off the ground. Within a few seconds, they clumsily lifted off.

Zach, on the other paw, was completely confused when Frack was not where he expected to be. He slowed to a hover, looking around every which way but one, above and behind him, which was where Frack was waiting. With a hoof, he swatted at Zach’s leonine tail. “Tag! You’re it!” he called out before slipping down and to the left, circling away from where Carol and Lena were. “You too, ladies! Come and get me!”

Frack managed to induce the three into chasing him around and about the gravel mine area for ten or so minutes before calling out, “Okay, rookies! Last lesson of the day! Can you LAND safely?” he taunted before gliding down to an easy landing. “I can do it! What’s YOUR problem?” he called up.

The group on the ground, when not enjoying the coffee, cakes and fresh bread that was laid out, with butter the Saint Loo contingent had brought, watched the aerial antics with interest. After Frack landed, Lena managed to touch down, having to trot a few steps. Carol was next, landing hard enough to send her tumbling. “I’m okay!” she shouted as she got back up.

Zach was not so lucky. He landed hard, hard enough so that when he touched down, he went nose-end down and flopped, landing on his back and outspread wings. “Ow…” he muttered.

Fred trotted up to Zach. “Roll over, son. Let me look you over,” he said in gentle tones. Zach obeyed the big blue earth pony, rolling onto his paws. Fred touched him with a hoof, and a white glow passed over Zach for a few seconds. “You’ll be okay. Go have another leg of deer. Can you get to the fly bridge on your own?”

Zach shook the dust off him. “Is it alright if I walk?” he asked.

Fred smiled. “Of course. Go right ahead. Go have some, and I’ll snitch you a cold coke or two, okay?”

Zach grinned. “You’re on, sir!” he said before heading off.

“Fred, are you giving away my stash?” Frack said accusingly.

“Yes. What are you going to do about it?” Fred replied, looking at the pegasus with a placid glower.

“Nothin’. Go right on ahead!” Frack said in reply before going to get some cold water, the two other pegasi joining him.

Inside, Frick and Suzanne finished their interview with Sandra and the WSU. Frick made sure the appropriate contact data was written out, and the two left the pilothouse for some more coffee and cake. “You want to open relations with the damn thieving two-foots across the river? Whatever for?” she said with some heat.

Frick sighed. This is the one part of diplomacy he quite frankly hated, that of teaching some stupid, obstinate pigheaded lout that their position is totally wrong and his is completely right, WITHOUT antagonizing the lout. “There is more than one reason to, Suzanne, the first of which is that there is not enough intelligent life of ANY type left on the planet right now, and that we will all need to work TOGETHER to get some semblance of what was to remain for some time to come. Another is, as you have pointed out earlier, or was it Virgil, that you Saint Loo ponies don’t have the knowledge base to do anything more than hang on by your hooves. We are bringing knowledge to you that you didn’t have before. I know they have one advantage you don’t have, Suzanne!” Frick said harshly as he lifted the two pieces of the arrow up off a countertop and waved them in her face.

“I pulled this out of my brother’s wing not four hours ago! Do you want to have to pull arrows out of any of your folk’s hides? It is not a good feeling!” he snapped.

Suzanne went to say something, but Frick waved a hoof to keep her silent, his cap badge lighting up with a purple glow. “I’m not done yet, Suzanne. I know right now, with your biases, that asking the two groups to merge resources and skills is about as likely as the Second Coming of Christ himself, but the very least I can hope for is to come to an agreement between you and them that will allow a cease-fire and acceptance that if one side crosses the river without permission, the other side has the absolute freedom to stomp the living shit out of the trespasser! That ought to make you happy, right? Have you got all those violent impulses out of your system or will you go back to being a tyrant?” Frick said harshly, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the zebra.

“You’re passionate about this, aren’t you?” Suzanne said slowly, already rethinking her position and realizing that crossing someone who has already said he was willing to help her tribe out of savagery is Not A Smart Thing To Do.

“Damn right I am, Suzanne. We’ve cruised down the Big Muddy from Omaha to Saint Louis and you want to know how many times we’ve met fellow sentients? TWICE! Once in Saint Joseph, a little buffalo boy beset by a pack of dogs, and a bunch in Kaycee, where we left the boy amongst ponies, griffins, and a diamond dog whom we KNOW will raise him well! Let the old world die a lamentable death, taking away all the hostilities and hatreds. There’s not enough of us to keep hatreds and prejudices going. Let. Them. GO!” Frick said with passion and heat.

Suzanne sat there at the table, sipping some more of the coffee, letting his words percolate through her consciousness. She thought about her life Before, where she was a successful advertising executive at KMOX radio, having fought her way up the corporate ladder, despite being an African-American woman of middle years. She had taken a secret pride of the nickname she had earned on her way up, Amanda Waller, the hard-as-nails commander of the Suicide Squad from comics. The physical resemblance was there, as well.

“Can you accept the fact I won’t make a snap decision on this, Frick? I have a history with them I can’t just forgive and forget. Whatever you want to do, I won’t stop you, and when you are ready for any of us to get involved, please let us know. If you can get an apology from them, I will count that as a win,” she told the unicorn, whose cap badge was slowly losing its purple glow.

“Of course, I can accept that, Suzanne,” Frick said in a much calmer voice. “I already have an idea on how to go about it. Tomorrow will be soon enough, today we’ll devote to your group. You’ve already helped us, and we you.”

“That you have. You’re really going to give us your gas generator?” Suzanne asked.

Frick blushed a little, his ears going pinkish. “More like an extended loan, Suzanne. I’m sure you already know where most of the goods you want can be found nearby. We will help you gather everything and set them up, then and only then will we take the generator back. We know it works.”

“It does and we do. We’ll give you all the butter, eggs and canned cheese you can carry, and in exchange for your help, we’ll spot out the fuel and other supplies you’ll need. A lot of places right around here you can draw diesel from. Also, thanks for the use of your drone to keep watch on the bridge,” Suzanne said in reply.

“Somehow, I wouldn’t think you would want the watch tower left unmanned, so I’m glad we have a substitute for a few hours,” Frick said, pointing to the TV screen in the saloon, which showed a view up I-70 from the drone on the roof of the guard shack. “Virgil has a lot of sense. After his reaction to the coffee earlier, I thought he would like to step down for a while and have some good home cooking. Freida makes good omelets, right?”

“Oh, how right, Frick! None of us are what you call expert cooks. The trash heap around back is full of our culinary catastrophes. A family of local raccoons is grateful for the pile,” Suzanne said with dry humor.

“Make sure Zach doesn’t go hunting them,” Frick replied with equal dryness. “So, tomorrow morning, myself, Fred and Frack will go to your place for some more consulting, Freida will run the ship here, and Fran will go check out the dogs.”

“Two questions, Frick. Why will Freida be staying here, and why send Fran alone?”

“Okay, first, a rule we have is the boat NEVER is left alone. It takes one of us to unlock the controls, and someone who comes aboard to find a boat he or she can’t steal would likely wreck things. Besides, all of us have enough faith in ourselves to be able to shoot to kill or the equivalent. As for Fran, well, she’s not going to be alone…” Frick trailed off, rubbing his slowly worsening mane absently with a forehoof.

Fran slowly pedaled her way up the I-70 bridge, her bike baskets loaded with venison and other trade goods, Chopin nestled in her headfur, looking like a hairpin. “How I let Frick talk me into this, I’ll never know…” she muttered.

“Because Frick knows what he is doing, and deep down, you know he’s right. You’re the best one to go make contact with the dogs,” Chopin squeaked. “You have two feet, you can ride the bike, and you’re packing heat. You’re also a marksman-grade shooter.”

“There is that,” Fran agreed as they rode down to the north bank of the Missouri. “Where the hell is the off-ramp?”

“About half a mile ahead. You’re getting soft, Fran!” Chopin said playfully.

“I am NOT, little miss I-like-a-warm-bed-at-night! I know you know that!” Fran squealed, trying not to laugh. Chopin, however, had no such problem, and did so.

“Good thing we like each other so much, Fran!” Chopin managed to get out between bouts of giggles. “Exit coming up on right.”

“I see it.” At the right time, she turned off the interstate, then turned to go the ‘wrong way’ down the frontage road. At the intersection with Main Street, she came to a stop, looking about.

“You all right, Fran?” Chopin squeaked quietly.

“I just got a feeling, Chop. Like we’re being watched. Suspicion, curiosity. No overt hostility, but it is not far away,” Fran said in little more than a whisper. “Let’s keep on keepin’ on. We got us a job to do.”

“Right.” Chopin whispered as Fran started pedaling again, heading towards the Ameristar, following her instincts. She pedaled down the drive, to find two garages waiting for her, one left, one right. Without hesitating, she went to the one on the left and rode in, to find the first floor full of cars and RV’s. She parked the bike in the motorcycle section, got off and stretched like only a cat could, getting the riding kinks out of her back and legs.

“That looked like you enjoyed it,” a woman’s voice with an accent Fran could not quite place said from the direction of the RV’s.

“I did,” Fran said in reply. “Who are you, where are you, and can we chat a while? I brought lunch. Just hope I brought enough.”

“The name is Anna Tereshkova, I’m over here, and yes, nice chat with friendly face is refreshing,” Fran heard as a door opened in one of the RV’s and a diamond dog bitch stepped out, one easily Fran’s height and at least three times her mass, carrying a teapot in one meaty paw and a basket in the other, wearing a bathrobe that was easily three sizes too small, sleeves torn off at the shoulder. “Come with me. Fire is around other side of RV. Best place for it.”

Fran took out the meat and a thermos. “You know the area. I’m Francesca Vasquez, from Fremont, Nebraska. How long have you been here?” she asked as she hurried to catch up with Anna.

“Many months for sure. Snow not yet on ground when we come back here. Been very cold. Family stick together, we pull through. Wish could go elsewhere, but no fuel and RV very hard to drive when we look like this,” Anna said, gesturing at her body as she sat down on a chunk of rock before a pre-laid fire. From the pocket of her robe, she pulled out some kindling and a large, long lighter. A few moments later, the fire was burning bright, and Anna put the coffee pot on an iron ring in the fire. “Now, we wait. We trade questions?”

“We trade questions. Fresh coffee?” Fran asked, holding up the thermos.

“Da! Miss hot coffee, we all do. Husband, two sons, daughter. Going, we do, from Denver to Atlanta for daughter’s wedding. Miss it, we do. Ekaterina, she sad she not wed Ivan. Ivan wealthy person in Atlanta. Gemologist,” Anna explained as she held out a mug. Fran poured, then Anna sipped, a smile coming over her bulldoggish features. “What that meat? Not squirrel, not raccoon.”

“Venison. My friend killed it a few days ago as we were coming downriver, and another friend smoked it,” Fran explained as she cut some slices off the haunch and offered two to Anna.

“Venison? Not see deer here, none do. Squirrel, raccoon, wild turkey once, no deer. Meat we need now, but not much meat to find. Not eat dog nor cat. Call family out for them to have some?” Anna asked. Fran could not place Anna’s accent. Part Jewish, part something else.

“I certainly hope there is enough for all. Once I meet everyone, I would like to ask some questions. If you think they are too intrusive, please let me know and I’ll stop. Okay?” Fran asked as she kept on cutting pieces off of the haunch.

“Deal. I call family,” Anna said before taking a slug of coffee, put two fingers between her lips and let out a whistle that shocked both Fran and Chopin, who shivered and folded her ears down before burying herself in Fran’s hair. Within a few seconds, four more dogs came out from the RV, three males and a female. The female was not wearing much of anything, and what she was wearing was being held together with shoelaces. Soon, they were gathered a respectful distance from Fran and Anna.

Anna said something that Fran could not understand. The four dogs reached under the RV to pull out folding chairs to sit on, while Anna remained perched comfortably on her rock. “What is that meat?” the largest male said. The four dogs did all resemble each other, bulldog-like, brindle color with mixed white patches. The males all were wearing sweat suits liberated from the casino, while the female wore a robe that was too small.

“Venison, killed and smoked not three days back,” Fran said as she passed slices of the meat around, followed by the coffee thermos. “I don’t know if there are any around here, but we plan on looking about. How far have you searched?”

“Several miles in each direction. South, we only went once. They have guns. They missed shooting at Isaac, so we haven’t gone that way since. There’s an Aldi’s a couple of miles up 70 we go to a couple times a week, all of us, with carts and bicycles. Oh, I’m Gregory Tereshkov, you’ve met my wife Anna, my sons Isaac and Aaron, and my daughter Katherine,” he explained, indicating each one in turn.

“Which one of you is short an arrow from yesterday?” Fran asked.

“That would be me,” Aaron said. “I was afraid that the ones we saw flying were from the south bank. Is that one all right? I was aiming for the wing. That was a nice rescue the griffin did.”

“Well, you caught Frack right through the wing. Missed all the bones, fortunately. Our healer, Fred, can’t heal broken bones. We cut the arrow in half to get it out, then Fred healed the wound. Frack’s just fine now.” Fran explained.

Aaron sighed in relief. “Good. Not want to truly hurt. Just to veer off. I am the best arrow-hunter of us all. I’ll ask his forgiveness later.”

“You’re going to need it. He can get your RV running again, and knows a way to purify the gasoline or diesel so it can run again. He fixed the boat we’re using to go downriver. By working together, we have the skills to go downriver,” Fran explained.

“Something missing from us all. I remember some from life on kibbutz, but that was long ago. We manage here, but it not the happiest,” Anna said wistfully.

“Well, ladies and gentledogs, have I got news for you!” Fran said happily before explaining about the WSU, their contacts with them, and their current plans on heading downstream to link with the WSU.

Gregory spoke up. “There’s a boat ramp a ways downstream, and three boats parked on trailers in the west garage. Maybe we can get a boat running and follow you. Better than languishing here, right?” followed by muttered agreements in something Fran thought was German.

“I’ll bring that up with my friends. I’m sure a deal can be hammered out. I can’t commit fully, though. That’s up to the Captain,” Fran told the dogs honestly.

“Then, you do that. We check out boat first, da?” Anna said, getting up. That’s when the penny dropped in Fran’s head.

“THAT’s what I was missing! You’re Russian Jews!” Fran exclaimed.

“Four out of five are American. Anna’s from Irkutsk, by way of Israel. We met there when I spent a year in Israel back in 1989,” Gregory explained. “We married there, went back to Denver, and raised three wonderful children. Except for the fact we have no grandchildren yet, life has been good.”

Fran came to a decision. “Let me call in with the boat, okay?” she asked, raising her radio from where it hung by her side. “Cornhusker Five to Cornhusker Three, Fox Two.”

“This is Cornhusker Three. Go ahead, Five.” Freida responded.

“Three, I’ve made contact with the dog group on the north side of the river. They claim they have gone south of the river once last fall, then stayed to the north. Family of five, all dogs, who want to see if they can get a boat refurbished and follow us downstream. There are three boats on trailers in the other garage. Can you relay this data to One for consideration?” Fran told Freida.

“I can do that, Five. Are they going to need supplies?”

“I’m sure they can use much of our venison and pemmican. We should go hunting tomorrow,” Fran advised.

“Well, then, get your tail end over here to make the delivery! I’ll have the stuff taken down and ready to go by the time you get back here!” Freida said with a snap, followed by a laugh.

“On my way, Three! Five out.” Fran got up and looked at the family. “I’ll be back in an hour with supplies and maybe some answers. I’ll see about getting our mechanics over here tomorrow to check out your boats. Deal?”

All eyes swung to Anna. “Da! Deal!” she said with a smile.

“Okay! Back soon!” Fran said as she got up, taking the thermos but leaving what was left of the venison. She got on her bicycle and headed out with a wave and a smile before applying herself to the pedals.

Thirty minutes later, Fran was loading her bicycle baskets with venison, squirrel, pemmican, bread, some butter and cheese. Frick was giving her some help, Suzanne standing near. “So you say they are peaceful, and have been staying on the north side since fall?” Suzanne asked.

“That’s what they told me, and I believe them. They want to leave and follow us downstream, if they can get some boats working. Looks like you have a third party prowling, and a good one,” Fran opined as she squeezed in a dozen eggs.

Suzanne frowned. “Maybe I should go over and apologize,” she said. “We know of the others around the Arch, but we’ve only met twice. Bit of a distance, and it takes time.”

Fran waved a paw. “Better yet, let me go over and talk to them again, bringing your words. Maybe tomorrow invite them over here for a parley? They have bicycles, so they can come here easily,” she told Frick and Suzanne,

“I like that idea,” Frick said. “Let them come to us here, and we all can have a nice chat with them. At least me, Suzanne and this Anna lady. Here, over coffee.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me, Frick. What time tomorrow? Breakfast may be too early,” Suzanne said.

“Ten-ish. Mid-morning, before noon. I’ll give Fred boat duty tomorrow, Freida hunting duty, and the rest of us scavenging. Fran, you tell them that you will come by tomorrow to bring the clan over for coffee, chat and salvaging work,” Frick instructed.

“Plans like a sound to me, Captain!” Fran said as she got back on her bicycle to go back to the dog lot.

Saturday, January 23rd dawned cloudy and cold, a front having come through during the night, dropping several inches of snow. Fran brought the Tereshkov family over about mid-morning for brunch, the Saint Louis contingent having brought over some party awnings, tables, chairs, and two propane-powered space heaters for the conference. A fine meeting was had by all, suspicions clearing up within thirty minutes of sitting down, and some fine-fettled dickering was done by all sides. Very little animosity was shown, but there were a lot of laughs heard over each side’s bargaining for aid from the Deliverance crew. It wasn’t long before the topic of what each side wanted or needed was completely hammered out and written down by both Frick and Fran. Frick was about to announce a decision when the radio came to life.

“Cornhusker Three to Cornhusker One!” Freida’s voice called out.

Frick picked up his radio. “Cornhusker One. Go ahead, Three,” he said calmly.

“One, I’m several miles up highway Ninety-Four, near the town of Orchard Park. Damned if I have not found the biggest herd of deer I have ever seen, just grazing out here, nosing the snow aside. I’m counting forty, then I lose track and start over. There will be no problem hunting a deer, it’s transport that’s going to be a problem. Any interest?” Freida asked.

“Stand by, Three. Everyone has heard you. How much do you think you can transport on your own?” Frick asked in reply.

“I can get a side plus some of the organs. Much more than that and I’ll be wiped out for the rest of the day.”

“Okay, Three, do that and RTB. We’ll see about arranging a hunting party. Thank you for the information. One out.”

“Three clear.”

Frick looked at the assembled dog and pony show. “Okay, does anyone have any ideas about going out a few miles for some good hunting?” he asked the group.

Gregory was the first to speak up. “There are several security electric carts over at the Ameristar. We can get a generator from up the road, siphon and purify the gas, and charge the cart. With any luck, it could last the distance.” he told everyone.

Suzanne spoke up. “You say there’s more than one, right? Any objections if we claimed one?” she asked.

“Swap a cart for two dozen eggs, a tub of butter, and a can of cheese and crackers. Got any flour or potatoes? Maybe I can make blintzes or knishes for you!” Anna said cheerfully.

“Throw in teaching us how to make them, and I’ll add a sack of flour and three cans of potatoes. Deal?” Suzanne countered with.

“Deal!” Anna replied with a laugh and an offer of a very big hand. Suzanne offered a hoof, and they shook on it.

Once that was over with, Frick said, “Okay, I know it will be too much to ask the two groups to live together, so how about we all agree to work together? We of the Deliverance will stay a week or so, teaching each other what we need to learn to make life a little better for all before heading out on OUR mission. Can we agree to that?” The resounding “YES!” that followed damn near blew him into the river.

The next few days, be they fair or foul, were very busy for everyone involved. Frack, Isaac and Virgil were kept busy building purifiers, checking out gas-powered generators from whatever source they could be found in, be it Earth City or Saint Charles. Once that was done, Isaac got to work in the Ameristar garage, siphoning and purifying gasoline left in the cars, while Virgil did the same thing on the other side of the river, at a couple of gas stations, using some clean barrels they had found to transfer gas.

Freida and Josh, the first few days, were the hunting team, going out in the mornings to the deer herd, taking one, gutting and butchering the kill, then flying back to the camp for more detailed butchering and smoking, which Frick handled while teaching Virgil and Sadie how to do the smoking meat spell.

Frick, Fran and Suzanne went out scavenging for satellite phones and laptops, with Katherine as their aide. At first, Frick and Suzanne walked while the other two rode their bicycles, to haul back their finds. On the fourth day, the teams got two security carts from the Ameristar charged and working, the third not working and they didn’t want to tear it apart to find out why. With the carts, Anna took one to use at the hunting grounds, to bring back two deer at a time, while whoever was doing Saint Charles prowling took the other. That saved a lot of time and effort, having something to drive. On the fifth day of work, Aaron brought back radios he had taken from Saint Charles fire department and charged them. Not to be outdone, Carl, the former taxi driver, went south in another cart to his old cab company, where he promptly liberated some radios and set them up, one as a base station and four portables. After a week, the two separate colonies, north and south, had improved their quality of life by quite a lot. Electric lights at night, world-band radios to listen to WSU broadcasts, and a base station at the south colony that could call the WSU, with several computers to aid. North side had computers as well, but they had to be paired to a phone to use the limited Internet, and as such was not used for that purpose often. Battery-suckers, they were.

One problem they noticed is that while the two sides were in agreement and working together, there were still thefts from the south side food storage. Once every day or two, something else vanished from their storage rooms. One day, a haunch of venison. Another day, a pound or two of butter. All little things, but noticeable. When they kept watch during the day, nothing happened. Another day, they put the drone up as a monitoring camera. Someone threw a towel over it, blinding the camera. Fred, on watch at Deliverance, didn’t notice anything unusual until the towel was removed, the motion catching his attention. By the time Mary Sue (who was the closest) got there, no trace was left of the perpetrator. An idea was proposed at the communal lunch on the fifth day, and it was put into effect.

While much of the colony's personnel were either out scavenging for materials or inspecting the boats at the Ameristar for suitability, Chopin settled in for a watch over the storeroom door, perched on a high ledge. That way, she could see the door, but was hidden from view.

It was only an hour or so when Chopin spotted some movement at the door. The movement resolved into a small figure that looked like Fran, but was wearing an outfit made of crudely stitched together towels from Holiday Inn, including foot wraps (it had dusted snow the night before), and an empty Dora the Explorer backpack that had seen better days. Chopin watched as the black-and-white (from what she could see) kitten deftly opened the door to the food store, went in, and came back out two minutes later with a full backpack. The kitten shut the door carefully before scampering out quietly. Chopin left her perch and followed.

Chopin trailed the kitten at a distance as it crossed Earth City, heading for the Interstate. The kitten used duck-and-cover skills well, remaining unseen from the scavenging ponies. The kitten went to a spot along I-70 some distance southeast of where the guard shack was, slipped through the fence, crossed the Interstate, and went directly to the Holiday Inn Express there, going through a door that did not shut all the way. Going inside, Chopin listened for footsteps, which she did not hear, but she did hear a door shutting off to her left. She flew that way until she could hear noises coming from behind a door. She could not make out the words, but there was definitely noise coming from room 112. Going back outside, she went along the wall until she found the window to that room. Again, she heard noises, but nothing clear enough to understand. Content, she flew back to the Deliverance to report.

That evening, over supper aboard the Deliverance, Chopin told what she saw that day. The rest of the Deliverance crew knew something had been stolen, because Suzanne had called and griped about it before Chopin got back to the boat. “A kitten, dressed in towels, slips in and out without being noticed?” Frack said, incredulous.

“Entirely possible, Frack,” Fran told him. “You know how I get a feeling about what’s ahead? Maybe with the child it’s more refined. She could sense when everyone would be out, or when they’re looking.”

“I think I’ll know what’s going to go on tomorrow morning,” Frick told the group. “Fran, you, me and Fred will go over to the hotel, with Suzanne, to check on this little one. Freida, I want you at the food bank, and Frack, you have the boat. Hopefully, this won’t take too long, and we can get back to our regular schedule.”

“Do you feel anything, Fran?” Chopin squeaked.

“No, but I’m not surprised. With me, at least, if I try to peek, I see nothing. If I let it happen, I get a warning when I need it. Like when we first met the Tereshkovs. I knew someone was around, and I went right to them. We’ll see about tomorrow when it gets here,” Fran answered the breezie.

“I know why you want me, Frick,” Fred said. “Who knows how healthy the kitten is? Let me get to see him or her and I will know.”

“Got that right, Fred. After supper, I’ll call both groups on the radio and advise of the change of plans,” Frick said with a sigh. “It’s been a long day already, and tomorrow is going to be… intriguing.”

Author's Note

Okay, a little shorter than usual, but the break point came up, so I figured, why not?

Dogs, cats, ponies, zebras, all living together in harmony. I would say melody, symphony and rhapsody as well, but the only one with a good voice is Fred. The others are like your author, loving music, but can't sing to save your life.

Chapter ten in a week or two, depending on how I feel. We can hope.

Chapter 10: A Tale on Two Rivers

Friday, January 29th, twenty-sixteen. It was clear and cold in Saint Louis, a cold front having gone through in the overnight hours clearing out moisture, and dropping temperatures a good twenty degrees. At the food bank, Frick, Fred and Fran gathered, along with Suzanne and Mary Sue, who insisted on coming along. “Are we ready to do this?” Frick asked.

“Let’s do it,” Suzanne agreed.

“Yes, let’s,” Mary Sue said. Ever since Fred pulled her aside for a quick talk the week before, she had become less morose and more thoughtful, then, three days previous, she woke in the morning, more than willing to talk, but would not talk about Before, which was usual for her. Instead of shying away from any questions, she instead would say, ‘That was then, this is now. Now is more important than then.’ She wasn’t wrong about it, either.

They made their way through the thin snow cover (only an inch or so, but Frack was sure more would be coming in the next day or two, and by sure, he referred to the Christmas Day storms) along the path Chopin had told them the kitten took. At the Interstate, they found a hole in the fence, but one sized more for a being Fran’s size than just a kitten. On the other side of the Interstate, they found another hole in the chain link fence. “I get the feeling there has to be more than one over here,” Frick said as he held open the second hole to allow the others to get through it. “This hole is much too big for what Chopin described as coming through.”

“It is,” Fran agreed. “Something tells me we had best hurry along. Room 112, she said.”

“This way. I can feel something,” Mary Sue said, looking at the building. “Two of them, similar, one ill, one worried, two hungry, two cold.” She sprinted for the door, her reddish-pink mane and tail trailing in her wake. The rest followed her.

At the door to room 112, they faced a problem: With the power off, the door would not open from the outside. Frick went to work, trying to ‘pick the lock’. “Watch the doors on both sides, they may try a connecting door,” he warned.

“One’s definitely sick, Frick. I can feel it from here,” Mary Sue said. Fred nodded in agreement.

“Should be just another few… there!” Frick grunted, only to mash himself against the door when it stopped swinging open, held by the security lock. Fred, Mary Sue and Suzanne piling into him didn’t help. Once they got off him, Frick unlocked the door with his telekinesis. “Once more, from the top…” he said shakily.

The away team piled into the room, to find themselves staring down the barrel of a shotgun held by a ginger-colored Abyssinian lying in one of the two beds. “Ya know, ya coulda knocked,” the Abyssinian said. “Who is ya, the Welcome Wagon?”

Fred was the first to speak. “You can say that. Suzanne, the zebra and Mary Sue, the yellow and pink pony, live here in Saint Louis. Frick Larsen, Fran Vasquez, and myself are just passing through. You, sir, are ill. I’m a healer. May we help you?”

The Abyssinian put the shotgun down, visibly shaking. “Yeah. Cut myself on something a couple weeks ago. Musta got infected. Rosa, you can come out now. They won’t hurt you.” he panted.

From the far side of his bed appeared a little black and white kitten Abyssinian, dressed in towels held together by shoelaces. “I hoped you would come by today. Daddy’s getting sicker, and I don’t know what to do!” she said in a partial wail.

Fred went to the male while Mary Sue went to the kitten. “Would you like a pony back ride, Rosa?” she asked after nudging the kitten’s cheek, which gave her a feel for her health, which, while being hungry and cold, was not bad for someone her age.

Rosa scrambled up onto the bed, then to Mary Sue’s back, slipping under the blanket that she wore against the cold. “You’re warm!”

“That I am. Let Sexton Fred work on your father, okay? Hopefully, he’ll be up and around in no time!” Mary Sue said encouragingly.

“Okay,” Rosa said with a yawn, the warmth of Mary Sue’s body lulling the kitten to sleep.

Meanwhile, Fred had nosed the male, to get a read on what was wrong. “I’m Fred Halvorsen, from Columbus, Nebraska. What’s your name and where are you from?” he asked.

“Mark Voltefiore, from Ronkonkoma, New York. Over there’s my daughter, Rosa. We was comin’ east, headin’ for New York, and pulled in here to overnight. We go out for some McDonald’s, come back, and I no more than parked when the flash happened and we was both cats!” he explained as Fred checked the extent of his injuries.

“Where were you coming from, Mark?” Fred asked.

“Saint George, Utah. School let out this last week, and Rosa and I immediately left to head home to see the wife. She’s a stockbroker in Manhattan, I’m an accountant in the same firm. We’re still married, but we agreed the promotion here could not be turned down, so Rosa and I came out here last August before school started. She likes it out in Utah, in the heat and dry, but she missed New York and her mother, so off we went,” Mark explained as Fred did an examination.

“Well, Mister Voltefiore, I have good news and bad news for you. Good news is I can fix whatever is ailing you. Bad news is you’re going to be flatbacked for a while,” Fred explained.

“Flatbacked? What foah?” Mark asked.

“The infection you have is pretty well set. I can rid you of it, but it will take a lot of energy out of you. I can do the healing now, then bring you back to the food bank, where they have their home at. You’ll be asleep for about a day while you knit, and you’re going to wake up hungry,” Fred explained.

“We have no problems with you joining us, Mister Voltefiore,” Suzanne told the Abyssinian. “Why did you hide from us for so long?”

“We heard gunfire. That’s a good reason to hide. Need I say anything more?” Mark asked.

“We’ll have a longer talk later. So, ready to get some rest and wake up in a warm bed?” Suzanne asked.

“Yeah, go ahead. When Rosa wakes up, tell her what she will need to do, but say this to her, okay? Tell her Abercrombie says it’s all right to follow you. It’s our safe word,” Mark explained, lying back on the bed.

Suzanne nodded. “I can understand that. Tell her Abercrombie said so. Is there anything you want us to bring along from here?”

“Naah. Whatever’s here, we can come back and get later. Can’t charge her tablet and my laptop, anyhow,” Mark sighed.

“But we can, Mark,” Frick put in, his senses coming back after the door squish. “Not only charge it, but we can link you to what’s left of the Internet.”

“Really? Okay, bring ‘em along,” Mark said before turning his attention to Fred. “Hit me, please. I’m feeling achier than ever.”

“Talk to you later, Mister Voltefiore,” Fred said before touching the Abyssinian’s hand. A white glow came out and surrounded Mark before being absorbed into his body. Mark winced, but soon relaxed into a deep sleep.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s pack them up for a trip home. Fran, find the electronics and bring them, along with the shotgun. Frick, pick him up and put him on Fred’s back, well-wrapped against the cold. I’ll tell Virgil to prepare for company,” Suzanne ordered, unslinging her radio.

“Will do, boss lady!” Frick said, scooping Mark up with his glow and putting him on Fred’s broad back, draping two blankets over the cat and then tying him down with a robe sash.

“All set? Let’s go!” Suzanne called, leading the way out. She let everyone go out before she left, putting duct tape over the door latch so it would not lock shut, she hoped. If not, it would take Frick to get back in.

A half-hour later, Mark was put in a warm bed with an electric heating pad and left to rest and recover. Rosa woke from her nap, and was filled in on who’s who and what’s what, using the pass phrase ‘Abercrombie said so’ to get her trust. Mary Sue, along with Sadie, were designated ‘kitten watchers’, and were told to take a radio and go across the street to the storage place to outfit Rosa with better clothing. What Sadie could not finesse open, Mary Sue could kick open. It worked. By lunchtime, the kitten had proper clothes again, warm ones, with shoes and boots that somewhat fit.

At lunch, down at the Deliverance, Rosa got to meet every dog and pony in the colony. At first, she was delighted, then tired rapidly, so Fran brought her aboard the boat and allowed Rosa to nap in her cabin. Once the kitten was bedded down, the real business began.

“Greg, you’ve decided on which boat you’re going to use, right?” Frick asked over coffee.

Greg nodded his massive head. “Yes, the largest one, the La Petit. It’s going to be a little small for the five of us, but we can manage. Isaac and I will get some barrels and pump out the diesel tanks this afternoon, and tomorrow, Frack and Aaron can check the motor and generator while we get the fuel purified. You and Fran check over the electronics with Katherine. With any luck, once we get her into the water and get fully provisioned, we should be a week or two behind you. At least, that’s how I see it.”

“Then, that’s the one we’ll finish fitting out. Before we leave, we’ll see about putting her in the water and getting her here for final fitting out. Hopefully by then, you’ll be as qualified to be the captain of your ship as I am with mine,” Frick said in dry tones.

“Are you qualified to be the Captain, Frick?” Greg asked. “Seems to me like Fred’s the one who gets everyone organized.”

“That’s why he’s First Mate. You should train Anna for that on your ship. She runs the ship, leaving you free to make decisions.”

“Okay, I get it now. Anna handles boat worries, I handle out-of-boat worries. Is that the way to look at it?” Gregory asked.

“Pretty much. To put it in Trek terms, she’s the Riker to your Picard. Let her handle boat issues, you worry about where the boat goes. That will be one load off your mind. As needed, tell her WHAT you want, let HER decide HOW to get it done. She’s a tough lady. Use that to your advantage,” Frick counseled.

“You know, I have an inkling about what you are talking about, Frick,” Greg said, putting an arm over Frick’s back. “Sounds like running a happy family. Men rule, women decide.”

“Yeah, well, don’t inkle on the Deliverance, please. Anna won’t like it if Frieda skins you alive for getting her boat dirty,” Frick replied drily. After a pause, the two males got a laugh out of it.

For the next week, the three groups all pitched in to make their lives better, and for the departures of the Deliverance and the La Petit, getting the smaller boat checked over, put in the water, fuelled, and brought across the river for final fitting out. The electronics were brought up to snuff, the Tereshkovs all learned how to use said boat electronics, and the Voltefiores fitted in to the Saint Louis team. Being bipedal in a quadrupedal world that used to be a bipedal world had some advantages.

Mark, after a day-long nap and damn near a whole haunch of venison, rare but hot, found himself recovered from the infection, with little trace of a scar under his yellow-orange fur. Rosa was not only happy to have her daddy feeling better, she was finding all sorts of things to DO, instead of having to hide in the hotel with coloring books.

All too soon, Deliverance was set to sail, tanks topped off, fully provisioned, all matters set. The day before, a big party was held at the LaFarge rock pier. SOME booze was broken out, but really not that much. Where in Saint Charles the Tereshkovs found a supply of drinkable Manischewitz wine, they never said, but chilled in the cold river for an hour before opening, was eminently drinkable.

Frick sat at the saloon table on the Deliverance with Suzanne and Gregory while the party went on outside. “You said there’s a group down by the Gateway Arch, right?” Frick asked Suzanne.

“Correct. We’ve met twice, but that’s about it. Their leader is an earth pony named Exeter. We’ve never met, both meetings were with a unicorn mare who goes by the name of Swifthoof. We would like you to let them know we will welcome them here, because the more hooves, the merrier. Get enough ponies here and we may move to one of the local hotels for better living conditions,” Suzanne said with a smile.

“We’ll leave them a radio so you and they can talk to coordinate. If they have the fixings, we can set up a fuel purifier, find a generator, and get it so they can keep the radio charged. Whatever else, we’ll worry about later,” Frick said. “One set to your frequency, because we have enough of those, and if all goes well, they’ll bring it back.”

“Such is the hope. We accomplished a lot when we had plenty of hooves and paws here. Now, we’re going to be losing half of us. Scaling down won’t be easy!” Suzanne laughed.

Gregory spoke up, lifting his wine mug for a sip. “We won’t be leaving for at least a week, Suzanne. Maybe two. We want to make sure you have all you need, and we want the Deliverance to get a good head start, to let us know what’s ahead. We’re in no hurry.”
“That’s good to hear, Greg. There’s lots we can get done before you take off,” Suzanne said after some of her wine.

“We’re happy to help, Suzanne. I’m just sad we got off on the wrong foot, but we've made up for it, in spades, right?”

“Spades, hearts, clubs and diamonds, dog!” Frick said with a laugh, which the other two joined in before getting back to planning talks.

Outside, Mark and Rosa sat at a low table with Fred, Fran, Chopin, Katherine, Mary Sue and Sadie, enjoying tacos Fran had made. Carnivores got venison in theirs. “Do you have to go so soon, Chop-in?” Rosa pouted. “I'm gonna miss you!”

Chopin, nestled between Rosa’s ears, gently skritched the kitten’s head with her forehooves. “I’ll miss you too, honorary member of the Rose clan. But I have a job to do, to see what’s out and about, and I can’t do that sitting here, can I?” she squeaked quietly.

“No, but…” Rosa started to say before her father cut in.

“Rosa, up here, you got me, Sadie, Mary Sue, and all the rest of us to teach you, right?” Mark told her. “Plus, Chop-in can call you on the radio and the computer, right?”

“Yeah! Can you do that, Chop-in?” Rosa said eagerly.

“With my help, of course she can! Can’t say just when, but we can always arrange a meeting by email, right?” Fran asked with a smile, after a mouthful of taco, which she had to admit was pretty good, now that they learned how to season squirrels properly.

“That would be good, Rosa! We can talk over the picture-thing, like we did with the people across the ocean,” Chopin squealed.

“Would be nice to teleconference again, but ta who?” Mark mused.

Fred asked Mary, “Sure you can handle the healing chores?”

“Pretty much. Apito has shown me a lot. She does not expect me to do a lot of converting to her cause, but she is glad I’m here to teach,” Mary Sue answered. “Not all her values will go over well here, but I am the only one here with Taino heritage. I’ll do the job for her.”

“What’s a Tie-eeno?” Rosa asked.

“Your ancestors are Italian, right, Rosa?” Mary Sue asked. After the kitten nodded, she went on. “My ancestors came from Cuba, and were of the Taino people. Apito was one of their goddesses way back when. The gods and goddesses of past times came back when magic arrived and we all were changed into ponies, dogs, cats and such. Apito decided I would do good for her by being her agent here, and I accepted. Now, among other things, I can heal others like Mister Fred can do. I can do more than him, but I have not found out what.”

“Wow…” Rosa said, wide-eyed.

Up above, the griffons and pegasi were having a version of badminton going on, Zach and Freida against Carol and Lena, with Frack being the referee. One team over water, one team over land, and a team scores a point if the birdie hits the ground (or water) on the opponent's side. The game ran until they ran out of birdies, with the pegasi winning by two points. Griffons may have more strength, but pegasi have better agility. After the game, the five landed for fish burgers and tacos, with not-quite-stale chips and lots of cold drinks. Not a lot of beer, though, but that night, Frack had to co-opt his brother for a road trip to the Quick Fuel to refill his Vanilla Coke stash, ten twelve-packs worth. One went into the saloon fridge, the other nine under his bunk. “Can’t live without the stuff, can you, bro?” Frick noted as the last of the twelve-packs was stowed.

“Nope! Only thing better is the Cokes in the glass bottles, and I have not seen any yet. Intact, that is,” Frack replied.

“If only I can find some Jolt…” Frick mused.

“You do, I’m NOT going to get you down off your caffeine high! Last time you had Jolt, You stayed awake for two days, big bro!” Frack snapped.

“Well, that was a six-pack in an hour…” Frick mumbled in reply.

Sunday, February 7th, twenty-sixteen, the Deliverance cast off from LaFarge dock, heading downstream. The Tereshkovs waved from the La Petit as they cast off and cruised by, the crew waving back. Down the Missouri River they cruised, in no particular hurry. Fran had first watch, so she took her time to observe the scenery in the cool morning light.

One thing that got to her as she piloted the boat were all the twists and turns the river took. According to the maps, from where they were to the Gateway Arch, via I-70, which was on the order of fifteen miles, give or take. By river, easily three times as far.

When the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers merged, the difference in the clarity of the water was obvious for miles downstream before the waters mixed to the point where Fran could not tell the difference. The Missouri river water lived up to its name of The Big Muddy, while the Mississippi’s water looked… well, cleaner to her. It wasn’t until the boat was down by the Chain of Rocks bridges before the color change became imperceptible. By then, Fran had to watch for rocks in the river. Fortunately, what few that were there were easy to avoid. After that, she watched Saint Louis come into view on her right side. The Gateway Arch came into view, and fortunately, there was a small pier just to the south of the Arch, with a riverboat tied up to it. A stern paddlewheel riverboat. A little cruising showed a second one tied up beyond the first. Freida looked from one of the saloon windows. “Showy boats, they are,” she commented.

“Showy, yes, but a little big for our purposes. Fueling that has got to be a pain. I think we can tie up over here, at the end of this part of the dock. Ready to handle lines?” Fran asked.

“Extend port side reels. I’ll be ready when they are out, then I’ll put the fenders in place before tying up. Call Frick and have him get the flare gun,” Freida said as she shut off the stove. Lunch was about ready, anyhow.

“Will do.”

Freida got the boat tied to the dock as Fran got Frick up. It was not like the three fellows had hangovers, but they were up late planning, plotting and discussing. Frick stumbled up the steps with a bad case of bedmane. He opened the small arms locker and broke out the flare gun, going out to the dock to fire it off. Suzanne had told him that the suggested means of contacting the city group was to send up a flare and wait for them, because they did not know where they would be or what they would be doing at any given time.

Just as Frick was ready to fire, a strong voice was heard. “Don’t bother. We heard you coming downriver. Not like there are any other boats or cars about,” it said, startling Frick enough that he almost dropped the gun.

Frick saw an imposing blue and black earth pony stallion with a bright yellow mane walking down the riverboat’s gangplank. “Nice to see someone new. Are you from the North side group?” he asked.

“No, but we just came from there. Suzanne says hello, by the way, and has an offer for you and yours. I’m Frick Larsen, from Oconee, Nebraska. Care to come aboard Deliverance for some lunch and coffee?” Frick asked.

“I’m Exeter, leader of the local herd. Welcome to Saint Louis. Yes, I will be happy to join you and yours for lunch. How many are you?” Exeter asked as he approached.

“Six, all told. I’m told you have six yourself,” Frick said as he made way for Exeter to get aboard.

Exeter sighed. “We did. Down to four now. Two died in a creature attack two months ago. Needless to say, we avoid the Zoo at all costs, and getting to the Gardens is a chore. We’re thinking of finding a new place to stay, but where is there to go that’s safe?” he asked.

Frick smiled. “Exeter, do we have a deal for you…” he said as he went to lead the big earth pony inside, to meet the crew, have lunch, and talk.

“Before we go aboard, Frick, mind if I get the rest of the herd? Sundays are our day of rest and reflection, and we should share the bounty you are offering with them,” Exeter advised.

“Go ahead, Exeter. It’ll be cramped, and we’ll have to make more lunch, but we can cover it. Go get your compatriots while I get the crew informed. Deal?” Frick asked.

“Deal,” Exeter agreed before trotting back aboard the sternwheeler. He came back a few minutes later with three other ponies, a coal-black earth pony female with mane and tail the color of smoke with flaming-red hooves and fetlocks, a female white unicorn with a platinum mane and fetlocks, and a small male unicorn with a red and black spotted coat, a yellow-blonde mane and horn, and steel-gray hooves and tail, who stayed close to the other unicorn. Exeter introduced them as Bitumen, Swifthoof and Sparky.

Over a lunch that dragged on past dinner, the two groups swapped their ‘origin stories’, then told of their lives since coming back. Exeter worked at Busch Stadium as assistant Chief of Maintenance, Bitumen was a college student at Washington University studying music, Swifthoof was a stay-at-home mother to Sparky who loved track and field, and after becoming a pony found she could run at a good clip for a long time. Sparky is nine and is already learning a lot about using his horn to power things, like his computer.

“Life here is not very much fun,” Exeter started. “Past few months, a lot of unusual critters have started appearing here in Saint Louis. Most green patches around the center of town have become home to animals that just don’t seem to like horses like us. Swifthoof is the only one of us who can outrun them, so we have to stay in this area, and the pickings are dropping down.”

“You know of the ponies up on the Missouri, in Earth City, right?” Frick asked.

“I’ve met them twice. Suzanne is a bit strong-willed,” Swifthoof said.

“Well, Suzanne has told me that they would welcome you all to join them up there, where they have plenty of food, few monsters, and the addition of the four of you will bring their population to fourteen. They know how to clean fuel, make power, and are in communication with a pony group in Europe, the WSU, that we are trying to reach,” Frick explained.

The four downtown ponies looked at each other in some sort of shock before Exeter was able to speak. “They WANT us to join them there?” he said incredulously.

Frick and Freida nodded vigorously. Fran was up in the pilothouse with Fred, while Frack stood by the back door, unable to keep his hooves still. “That they do. Suzanne did say that many hooves make light work, and when the Tereshkovs leave, they could use more hooves. Are you all interested?” Frick asked.

A glance went around the four downtown ponies several times before settling on Exeter. “How soon can we leave?” he asked for the group.

Fred spoke from his position in the pilothouse. “How about the first thing tomorrow morning? That will give us time to give them a call and let them know who’s coming, so they can make ready places to stay for the four of you. It’s going to take until mid-afternoon to get there, since we’ll be bucking the current the whole way, but by tomorrow night you’ll be in a better place.”

“Plus it will give you time to pack anything you want to bring with you tonight,” Frack added. “We won’t be going anywhere until you’re ready to come along. So says the Chief Engineer,” he added, brushing a wing against his chest proudly.

“Seeing as the main engines have been shut down for over half an hour already, is it not time for the Chief Engineer to check fluid and oil temps and levels? So says the First Officer,” Fred said in a low, rumbling voice that damn near had the force of God behind it.

Frack let out an eep of surprise. “Good idea, Fred! That’s why I’m standing here!” he squeaked, one wing reaching behind him, fumbling for the door latch, getting it unhooked and slipping outside with alacrity, going for the cover to the engines.

A small laugh echoed around the saloon. “Is he always like that?” Bitumen asked.

“Ever since he was little. He is my kid brother,” Frick admitted.

Before the downtown team headed to bed, the two teams did get a lot accomplished. A long chat with Suzanne, letting her know that the offer had been accepted and what to expect from each of the ponies, a shorter chat with the WSU, with a promise to call Sandra before the end of her shift in the morning for interviews, Fran and Sparky bringing the computers over for better charging and updating, Freida and Bitumen swapping recipes, the two groups getting along.

Monday morning, however, was not as calming. Frack, who had the helm for the first watch, was feeling uneasy from the moment he woke up. He explained that his weather sense was playing up, that he was feeling a storm coming, but could not see it. The skies all around were clear, with only a few clouds. Still, his weather sense said there was a storm to the south, approaching and receding at the same time. Irksome, but he could not be looking over his shoulder all the time, since he was heading northbound, not southbound.

Frick, Fred, Exeter and Swifthoof were gathered at the saloon table, Bitumen observing from the galley, Frieda was out on the aft deck, fishing, while Sparky and Fran were below, in her quarters, online with the WSU. At the saloon table, the ponies talked about conditions at Earth City in more detail than before, joined by Suzanne on the radio. Their conversation was occasionally interrupted by static, like lightning was striking somewhere nearby, but no storm was visible.

It was about an hour after the Deliverance had started from the dock when Frack came alert. “Bro! Take the wheel! Now!” he shouted as he bailed out and took wing, heading south.

Frick quickly got to the wheelhouse and took control. Fred and Exeter headed aft, joining Freida there, watching Frack flying south along the river, his gold-colored tail reflecting sunlight. “Just what the hell is he doing?” Freida asked.

“Couldn’t tell you, Maw. He just up and took off from the wheel. Not like him to do that. How’s the fishing?” Fred asked in return.

Wordlessly, Freida tapped the catch bucket with a claw, which was half-full of fish. “Pretty good, I would say,” Exeter commented.

Meanwhile, Frack was flying toward what was bothering him- a flock of silvery birds, about the size of a buzzard. Looked a lot like them, too. As he neared, Frack could feel that those birds could do what he could do- change weather. He could see sparks fly between birds if they were close enough to each other. “Oh, ho! You birds hunt in flocks, eh? Well, follow me! I know where you can hunt and feast!” he called out to them, turning on his own weather control ability.

Frack led them past the Deliverance to the east shore of the river, a place listed on maps as Gabaret Island. Spotting some deer there, he led the flock to the herd. Immediately, he could feel a storm rising, electric potentials climbing. He peeled off from the flock as a fog started condensing between the flock members. Together, the flock chose a target and started circling. Within a minute, a bolt of lightning jumped from the flock to the deer, who dropped to the ground. The whole flock landed and started pecking at the deer. Quickly, Frack headed back to the boat.

When he landed, Frick called out to him, “What you been doing, bro?”

“Found a flock of storm birds. They’ve been messing with my weather sense since I woke up. Led them to a herd of deer I found. Together, a flock can bring down a deer with a guided lightning bolt,” Frack explained. “I’ll take the wheel back.”

“I’ve never heard of a storm bird. Have you?” Frick asked.

“Nope. Had to call them something, and thunderbirds don’t live here, unless you count cousin Curtis’ Ford Thunderbirds. They look and act like buzzards, only they are active hunters. Not good to have around electronics, right?” Frack told his big brother as he took the wheel.

“No, it’s not. I better check the lightning systems aboard. How vulnerable are we to a lightning strike?” Frick wondered as he left the pilothouse.

“You’ll find out, bro. How many times has the K-Zen towers been hit?”

“Too many times, bro. I’ll be in my cabin.”

Not quite lunchtime, Freida decided to make one more cast before heading in and fixing lunch. The Deliverance had entered the confluence area between the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers, muddy west, clear east. She tossed out the line and watched it splash into the muddy waters. Quickly, she got a bite. She went to reel in the fish, and it didn’t fight, it was like she had hooked a snag. She went to cut the line when it slackened on her. She reeled it in, thinking the hook had come free. What she saw coming out of the muddy depths startled her.

What came up was the fin of a fish, a very big fish. The dorsal fin of a catfish that is not quite the size of the Deliverance. Thinking fast, she cut the line with a claw. Slowly, the fish settled back down, the fin submerging.

Fred and Exeter came out on the aft deck. “Was that what I thought it was, Maw?” Fred asked.

“If you thought you saw a catfish back about the size of the boat, you’re thinking what I thought,” Freida said as she put the fishing rod back into the locker, next to the rifles, shotgun, and the three other rods.

“That’s what I thought it was, Maw. Wonder how long that’s been there.”

“It picked a good spot, by the river junctions. Lots of possible food coming downstream,” Freida observed, picking up the bucket containing her catch of the day. “I’ll be upstairs for a bit, cleaning and prepping these. Fill the two big pots with water, put them on the stove, and set the burners on medium. By the time I’m done, they should be close to boiling.”

“Right, Maw,” Fred said, slipping past Exeter to go back inside.

“How long have you two been married?” Exeter asked.

“September first marked our forty-third anniversary. Didn’t get to celebrate it yet, Came back December eighteenth,” Fred said as he pulled the two pots from the cupboard prior to filling them. “The four of us have known each other since we could toddle.”
“So that’s how the four of you work together so well,” Exeter said. “Long experience.”

“That’s right. Long experience, knowledge of each other, and the patience to tolerate each other’s foibles,” Fred replied as he filled the pots.

“May I find someone like that,” Exeter sighed.

“Who knows? You probably can. Just let yourself be open to the possibility and have the patience to let the relationship develop,” Fred advised as he set the pots of water on the stove and turned on the two burners.

That evening, at LaFarge pier, everyone gathered there (at tables the local crew brought down) to a dinner that Freida and Fran prepared for everyone, so everyone could meet and mingle. The new immigrants (Exeter, Bitumen, Swifthoof and Sparky) had the chance to meet their new neighbors and got a rundown on their living conditions, which would be temporary until some decisions were made later. The Tereshkovs were interested in conditions downstream, because they would be leaving when they had enough provisions stored up. The reports of the storm birds and the giant catfish got everyone’s attention, as well as the reports of the creatures living south of them, closer to the center of town.

“So that’s why I haven’t seen you since November. Roads became too dangerous,” Suzanne said to Swifthoof.

“Right. I probably could have avoided them, but I didn’t want to take any chances after we lost Edward and Rachel. Bad enough Sparky lost his father. Losing his mother would have broken him,” Swifthoof said quietly, glancing at where Sparky and Rosa were listening intently to Fred telling a story.

“By being here, you can have a radio to take with you while scouting, so you can keep in touch with us,” Virgil pointed out.

“That, and electricity, food stocks, plans for the future, and most of all, a future we all can look forward to, working together to make our lives better. I mean, who knew cleaning up gasoline is as doable as it is?” Swifthoof observed.

“For sure, we didn’t!” Suzanne said with a laugh.

“Nor did we,” Isaac Tereshkov said. “We lived for months without that knowledge. We could have lived a bit better. Of course, then, we didn’t have contact with each other. We lived on the other side of the river, and we had reasons to be worried about each other.”

“Well, I’m just glad it was all for naught, Isaac,” Virgil said. “Turns out it was Mark and Rosa being real sneaky. I’m damn glad we found them, as well as getting along with you and yours. Sure y’all don’t want to stay here?”

Isaac shook his head. “No, we want to see about joining the WSU group. Havana is a possibility, depending on if we can learn Spanish well enough. We should, it's just that none of us have tried. English, Hebrew, Russian, those we know. Spanish, not yet.”

“I’m sure you could figure it out, if you want to, Isaac,” Swifthoof assured the diamond dog. “Being multilingual already gives you a leg up.”

“Before it gets too dark, I suggest we end the party and head back to the food bank. We have a sleeping area laid out for you, and first thing in the morning, we’ll get a barrel of diesel down here so they can top off their tanks,” Virgil suggested.

Suzanne nodded in agreement. “Yes, we should leave before it gets dark. Plus, you’ll have a batch of reading to do, learning about what it means to be a unicorn or an earth pony. It does make good reading, and the books are set so they are durable.”

“Meaning, I was the one to take the pages from the printer, slip them in page protectors, and put them in binders. That took a day to do them all,” Virgil said wryly. “I’m a courier, not a secretary!”

“Virgil, now, we’re all generalists. I sold advertising space for KMOX. Now, I’m leading a colony. If that’s not a career change, I don’t know what is!” Suzanne declared, to the laughter of the others at the table.

The Deliverance crew stayed at Earth City all the next day, topping off fuel, tweaking and peaking gear, bagging and smoking two more deer (with the help of the Tereshkovs) keeping one for them, suitably cut, wrapped and stowed up on the fly bridge. They also took the precaution of screening in the fly bridge with what seemed like an acre of plastic screening, with window flaps cut into each side (sealable with velcro) for when they decided to use the fly bridge for more than storage, along with a door flap for the ladder.

That evening, the Deliverance crew and the Tereshkovs sat down for dinner, with a map of the middle Mississippi valley between them. “What I’m planning is about three days to get down to Cape Girardeau, find a place to refuel, then another three or four days to get to Memphis. That’s the next major city south of here. After that, the river gets real twisty, so you could sail fifty miles downstream, but only move maybe ten miles south. With any luck, we’ll reach New Orleans in about four weeks,” Frick said, using his magic to move a pencil along the map.

“What will you do in New Orleans? Is there short cut to Gulf of Mexico?” Anna asked.

“Looks to me there is, south of the city. There’s a canal that goes from the river to this here Lake Borgne, and from there to the Gulf. Looks to me it saves a good fifty miles off the trip, instead of going all the way down to the delta and out,” Frick said, circling the appropriate spot on the paper map. “I hope we can find more detailed maps closer to New Orleans.”

“We should,” Gregory agreed. “I just hope by then, we all will have enough practice on the boat to dare some short blue-water sails along the coast before the big leap to Havana.”

“Let’s just hope the GPS systems are still working when we get that far. South of Naples, there’s a whole lot of nothing before you reach the Keys, then even less before reaching Cuba,” Fred observed, looking at the map himself.

Frick asked, “Have you set a definite departure date yet, Gregory?”

Gregory shook his massive head. “No, not yet. It’s more like when we get the nerve to set out, we will.”

“We’ve taken some trips up and down river, each of us driving, and each of us checking the motor after. We getting better at reading instruments, and one thing for sure is we not go full power unless Greg or I say so!” Anna said in her slightly fractured English.

“Smart idea, Anna. One thing I’m certain of is that if it breaks, you’re going downstream with no power and less control. You may want to look into finding or making a set of oars to get to shore,” Frick observed.

The two dogs looked at each other. “Not a bad idea,” Anna said. “Boys are strong. Can row boat to shore, da?”

“Da, lovely one. I look into making oars for boat. Strap them on rails?” Gregory questioned, thinking out loud.

“Da! Tomorrow, I go Saint Charles. Think I know where oars can be. Need to measure,” Anna declared.

“Okay, now that THAT is settled, Fred and I should get to bed. Early start tomorrow,” Frick said, getting up.

Everyone else got up as well. Frick used his magic to fold up the map. “We see you in morning! I make you blintzes!” Anna exclaimed. “Last chance for a long time!”

Frick and Fred looked at each other. Anna is a wonderful lady, but her blintzes left something to be desired. “How about a selection of matzoh balls?” Fred suggested.

“Matzoh balls? Okay! I do in morning, make nice batch! Add fish to some!” Anna said with a smile on her face.

“I’m sure all will enjoy that, Anna. Thank you so very much. Good night to you,” Frick said before heading aboard, Fred trailing behind. Once the saloon door was shut, both ponies sighed.

“May the Lord save us from Jewish mothers…” Fred sighed as he filled the teapot.

“Amen, Fred.”

“Want some tea?” Fred asked.

“Chamomile/lavender. Make it a double.”

Author's Note

A slow chapter, I will admit. Have not been well last couple of weeks. Nothing bad, just feeling blech, which is one step below blah.

More action in the next chapter, when they get to the next major city down the Mississippi from Saint Louis. Madness is not confined to ponies/dogs/cats and such.

Now, what can be so bad in Memphis? Keep your eyes open! Now, I can lie down and take a nap. Maybe. I hope...

Just sign off already, Al!

Right, Morris. Night, all...

Chapter 11: Memphis

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 0/1602.13, 0800, Captain Frick recording. Have arrived at Cape Girardeau, Missouri after three days of sustained downriver travel. Spent the first night at Hoppie’s Marina south of Saint Louis, the second night at a quarry dock at what the maps say is Jackson Township, Missouri. Last night, we made it here to Cape Girardeau. Fred and Frack are setting up the purifier prior to refueling, Fran, Freida and Chopin are out scavenging in town. We’re going to stay until Monday, resting, refueling and replenishing. Frack’s getting worried. He’s down to his last two twelve-packs of Vanilla Coke, and once the refueling is started, he and Fred are going out searching while I tend the purifier. Rank has its privileges.

“If my navigation is anywhere near close to accurate, after we leave Monday morning, our first stop will be Wickliffe, Kentucky. That’s just south of where the Ohio River meets the Mississippi River. Wonder if we’re going to see a big daddy catfish down there. We have noticed that whenever we pass anything more than a creek feeding into the river, the fishing IS better. Haven’t seen any more big catfish, but it’s a big river.

“Tuesday’s target is New Madrid, Missouri. The river is going to start taking some serious wriggles down there, a lot of sailing for little southerly travel. With any luck, we can make it to Memphis before dark on Wednesday, but I honestly doubt that. Not with the way this river is going up and down, back and forth, zig and zag. I know, it only gets worse.

“As to the wildlife we’ve seen heading downriver, anything unusual or horrid, like manticores, storm birds, something that resembles an alligator, even something that looks like a dinosaur on two legs, splashing about on the shorelines have kept their distance, for which I’m glad. Hunting deer and squirrel is bad enough. Lots of them on the shorelines and flood control areas, for sure. Just glad we still have a lot of stock left from Saint Louis.

“Hope we can find some uncontaminated grain or flour here in Cape Girardeau. Our stocks are still good, thanks to the packets we have stashed in the ceiling net bags along with the tubs up front. Need to get some stuff to bake with. That’s Freida's job. She can cook from scratch. I need to read the directions on the box to do things somewhat right. Her pancakes are good, especially with barley grains tossed in while on the griddle. Barley’s good!

“I see they’re ready to start fueling, so let me wrap this log entry up and send it off to the WSU for archiving. Sandra, I know you tend to play my log tapes over the air, and I can’t stop you. I just wish you would tell me what my Arbitrons are! Captain Frick out.”

Frick quickly worked the keyboard, saving the audio log, then drafting a quick e-mail to Sandra at the WSU before attaching and sending the log recording. Once that was done, he gathered all the stuff he needed to clean and replace the fuel filters, including the large double-strength trash bags to dispose of the used filter material before heading out to the filter mechanism.

“Everything working right?” Frick asked his brother, putting the fresh filter material down on a clean tarp.

“Is now. Had a bit of a time getting suction started, but it’s working now. Today and tomorrow, dawn to dusk, and we’ll have full tanks again. We are going to have to get four more barrels of diesel down here tonight or tomorrow. Fortunately, we filled them last night. All we got to do is fetch them,” Frack told his brother.

“A chore I’m not looking forward to after lunch,” Frick muttered glumly. Levitating four barrels of dirty diesel from the gas station to the boat ramp was a job he knew he was best suited to do, but afterward the fumes gave him a headache.

“You’re best for the job, bro. We got the four here last night, didn’t we? Filling the barrels was easy at the station, it’s just getting them here that’s not so easy,” Frack said, putting a wing over his brother’s barrel and hugging slightly.

Frack was going to say something else, but Frick’s radio came to life. “Eagle Three to Command Center!” Freida called.

Frick used his magic to get his radio free from its harness. “Command Center. Go ahead, Eagle Three.”

“That place a little ways down the river we thought could have been a fuel storage area? Well, it’s a granary! Most of it in the silos have gone over, but there’s still some sealed barrels that are good! Corn, wheat, oats, barley, sorghum… a good variety here, with a dock!” Freida reported.

“Okay! Before we leave, we can tie up there and restock! Just label the barrels before taking off for a store or two, deal?” Frick semi-ordered.

“Already did, Command Center! Off to the next stop! Eagle Three out!” Freida said, ending transmission.

“Command Center out,” Frick replied.

“Well, that’s one thing we won’t have to hunt for here,” Fred said quietly.

“Nope, but we have some other hunting to do. You two ready to hit the Wal-Mart?” Frick asked the two ponies.

“Just need to hitch myself to the wagon,” Fred said, referring to the collapsible wagon they had made in Saint Louis, a wagon that folds for easy storage, built of three wide, thick planks laid side by side, bolted and secured to a piece of canvas large enough to cover the bottom of the wagon, four sturdy tires from a lawn cart, two wide planks for sides, shorter ones for front and tailgate, and locking braces underneath to hold everything together when unfolded. Folded up, it stores on the foredeck ahead of the grain tubs, securely lashed down. Sure, it takes Frick five minutes to fold and unfold it, or Freida and Fran about an hour, but it is very handy when in port.

“I know the Wal-Mart is farthest away, but it’s the most likely to have what we’re looking for. The four of you know what to look for. I’ll take care of the ship,” Frick said as he helped Fred hitch up to the wagon.

“Don’t worry about it, Frick. Do the hardest jobs first, and the rest will go easy,” Fred told Frick.

“I’ll keep my eyes open for some Jolt, bro!” Frack said as he lifted off.

“You do that!” Frick called out.

That evening, after a day’s hard labor hauling goods from the Wal-Mart back to the Deliverance, Fred was asleep in bed next to Freida, when he became aware he was dreaming again. This time, he was standing, in his human form, on the shore of a shallow lake. Fish swam, birds flew, the plant life was lush, the scene was tranquil, and he realized he was facing a Native American gentleman, wearing an elaborate headdress and vest, and his one leg was twisted some, like he had a clubbed foot or some other form of defect. “Hello, Fred. Raven gave me your contact code,” the gentleman said in what Fred realized was Chickasaw. “My name is Kolopin, and I want to give you a warning.”

“Go right on ahead, Chief Kolopin. You have my attention,” Fred said, in English, with respect.

“Your plans are to continue south, passing a great city named for a city in a foreign land. In that city is a demon who is quite taken by the spirit of a great person who once lived there. The demon has some of my people and my wife’s people in thrall, forcing them to feed his capacious ego. Free them by sending the demon back to the place whence he came,” Kolopin said as the lake caught fire, starting as a heart shaped flame that quickly broke apart, the birds taking flight, fish taking to deeper water, and the lush green landscape turning black after burning yellow-orange.

“How will I know the demon? What guise is he taking?” Fred asked.

Chief Kolopin put a hand on Fred’s shoulder for balance as he picked something up out of the water at their feet, a scorched, soggy stuffed ursinoid. “Raven says you have a lot of wit and wisdom. Prove it to me,” the chief declared as he gave Fred the toy.

“I shall do my utmost, Chief Kolopin. I take it, you will be watching?” Fred asked, halfway sure he knew what the answer would be.

“Yes, I shall be watching. I can do little else until more of my people Return. Until then, the Great Spirit bids me to watch, guide, and atone for my crimes of centuries past,” the chief said with a sad sigh. “By helping my people and those of my wife, I can hope to atone, and be able to leave this place.” He gestured, and the burned-out scene of the lake was replaced by the first verdant scene. “Help me help my people.”

“Of course I shall, Chief Kolopin. Now that the need is known, it would be wrong to refuse. I want to be able to look my God in the eye when my time comes and say truthfully that I saved lives whenever I could. I will help,” Fred told the Chief.

What appeared to be a smile quickly passed over the Chief’s face before returning to its original mien. “Looks like that old trickster was telling the truth about you. First time for everything, eh?” the Chief said before turning and walking off across the lake, with an odd staggering gait, swaying to and fro as he strode.

The scene faded to a pale blue before darkening to black. Fred woke up in bed with a snort, remembering the dream he just had, wondering why his hooves felt wet. He rolled out of bed and immediately felt something go squish under his left forehoof. He turned on the light, and saw he had stepped on the very stuffed animal Chief Kolopin had given him. “I really should stop having a roll and molasses as a bedtime snack…” he muttered to himself as he went to the bathroom to dry his hooves and get the soggy stuffie off the floor before Freida found it and raised a fuss. He then went upstairs to use the computer in the pilothouse, checking some ideas.

That morning, over breakfast, Fred told his dream to the rest of the crew, using the stuffie for evidence. “So, another god came to you last night, Fred?” Frick asked.

“He wasn’t a god, Frick. A spirit, but not a god. Did a little research afterwards, and I found out who it was who called me. He gave his name as Kolopin, but he was known to the white men by another name,” Fred said around a mouthful of waffle.

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Fred- who was he?” Frack asked.

“He is known to myth and legend as Reelfoot,” Fred replied, reaching for his coffee.

Fran and Freida straightened in their seats, but Fran spoke first. “I’ve heard that name before! He was a chief who wanted a bride from another tribe. The Great Spirit said no, but he kidnapped her anyway. The Great Spirit, angry, stepped on Reelfoot’s village, burying him, his bride and his village under the waters of what’s known as Reelfoot Lake.”

Freida nodded in agreement. “He was Chickasaw, she was Chocktaw. The lake is said to have been formed after the New Madrid earthquakes back in eighteen-twelve. It’s said the Mississippi flowed backwards for a while, and church bells rang in Cincinnati during at least one of the three quakes, I misremember which one,” Freida admitted.

Fred smiled at his wife of many years. “Never underestimate a librarian,” he said, raising his coffee mug in salute.

“But, what about the stuffed animal? What could it mean?” Frick wondered.

“It’s obvious to me, bro,” Frack said. “A flaming heart, a teddy bear, and Memphis all add up to one thing.”

“Dear Lord,” Fred intoned, “please guide us, so we can find a way to triumph over the spirit of Elvis Presley.”

“At least we’ll have some time to think about the problem before we get there. What’s the latest weather forecast like, bro?” Frick asked.

“We’re good for today, so we can finish fueling and scavenging in the sun. Overnight, clouds will be approaching from the northwest, and by noon on the fifteenth, snow. Expected accumulations down this way will be no more than six inches, most probably three to four. Snow will continue through midday on the sixteenth before sputtering out. Ask me again tomorrow for further forecasts,” Frack reported before a forkful of waffle and maple syrup.

“Pardon me, Fred, but why do you say Elvis Presley?” Fran asked.

“Two of his songs are ‘Burning Love’ and ‘Teddy Bear’, and he lived in a mansion in South Memphis called Graceland. It was still a big tourist attraction, even though he passed on back in seventy-seven. He’s one of the top dead artists. I think only Michael Jackson has more sales. Looks like Elvis has a demonic fan club,” Fred told her between sips of coffee.

“It looks like it’s our job to take the demon down,” Frick muttered.

“No, Frick,” Fred said forcefully. “It’s not our job. It’s a request, nothing more. If taking out the demon is beyond our abilities, we can say we tried, but were not up to the task. Maybe others can. We just have to attempt it. If it works, then good, we have some more allies on the side of the spirits who owe us a couple. If not, then Kolopin will not be upset with us.”

“That’s good to hear, oh mighty spirit talker,” Frick said with a touch of sarcasm. “Any ideas on how?”

“Not now, but we have not got down there yet. Maybe something will come to us between now and then,” Fred said encouragingly.

“We can but hope. Fran, you take first half, Freida second. Let’s get started,” Frick said, getting up.

“Captain’s log, Stardate 0/1602.21, 1100 hours, Captain Frick recording. Finally, we are in sight of Memphis, and a sorrier sight I have not seen in a while. For one thing, the I-40 bridge has collapsed, leaving only the I-55 bridge crossing the river. Second, the city seems much more overgrown than Saint Louis was, with a lot more damage apparent. Weather down here must have been fiercer than further north. A lot of smashed windows, lines down, debris all over. Good thing we don’t have a car.

“Fred and Freida want to go to Saint Jude’s hospital for a scavenging run. I support the idea, because we can always use cotton and gauze for the fuel filters. That and it’s not far from the river off I-40. I can refuel the boat here at a yacht club while everyone else goes to the hospital. Brother will help me start before he flies off to join them.

“Fred had another dream of Reelfoot last night. From what he can gather from the clues, the main danger is around Graceland, which is south of I-55, so the north part of Memphis should be relatively free of trouble. The last good stop we had was New Madrid, seeing as we were stormed in for three days there. There is ONE good stopping place between New Madrid and Memphis, and we didn’t stop there because it’s not far from New Madrid. We had to anchor out in the river every night from there to here, rotating duty watches for everyone. I wonder if we can tolerate walking on dry land now!

“I’ll let the others scavenge what they want today while I hunt around the yacht club. I know there’s a big Bass Pro Shop in the pyramid. If it hasn’t been looted yet, it should be a good place to scavenge. We can use some more eggs.

“Time to start fueling. Sandra, if you want to chat, send me an email first, so we can match schedules, okay? Captain Frick out.” Frick then saved and sent his log to the WSU for editing and broadcast before heading out into the chilly morning to set up filling the fuel tanks. Some lucky scavenging in New Madrid led to acquiring some more powerful fuel pumps, so now fueling, instead of fifteen gallons an hour, is now more like twenty to twenty-five.

Fred, Freida, and Fran made their way through the pyramid’s parking lot to the front doors of the Bass Pro shop. As they approached the south-facing door, they noticed that the sun’s reflection off the front doors and windows was a little… off. One door was not reflecting like the others. Freida flew ahead to look. “Fred, Fran, a door here has had the window smashed out and cleaned up after. Whoever did it even swept up the broken glass. Same with the next doorway in. We’re not alone in Memphis,” she reported.

“We’ll be there in a couple of minutes, Freida. Wait at the door for the rest of us. Cornhusker Five to Cornhusker Four. What’s your ETA?” Fran radioed.

“Just passing the interstate now! Be there in a couple of minutes!” Frack called in.

Freida pressed her mic switch. “Meet me at the front door, Four. We’ll wait for the others before going in. We’ll need lights.”

“Two should have them in his pack, Three. Be there in a short,” Frack replied.

Frack flew over Fred and Fran before landing next to Freida. “Damn! Someone did a number on this!” he exclaimed.

“That they did. Neat, too. All the broken glass has been cleaned up. No shards or bits about.”

“Once I get unhitched, dig the lights out and we’ll go inside,” Fred told them as he came to a stop.

“Right, Fred,” Fran said as she started to pull the velcro tabs holding the harness together. Velcro is so much easier to manipulate than buckles.

Once everyone had their flashlights (Fred and Frack with head-mounted ones, Freida and Fran with big lanterns that could clip on their harnesses) mounted, they went in, one at a time. Fred first, then Freida, followed by Frack, Fran at the rear, her pistol in the holster, but the flap was loose and yes, it was loaded. Looking about, they saw the area right by the entrance was disordered, like there had been a storm, but someone had cleaned up somewhat after. Merchandise was set in a pile off to one side. “Someone’s been in here,” Fred observed.

“More than once, too. Why else would they clean up unless they intended to come back?” Freida half-asked.

“I wonder where they put the camping gear. We need some more goodies,” Frack said quietly.

Fran pointed at the aisle signs. “Back this way,” she said, pointing to the back of the big store and off to the left.

“I could fly in here. Lots of space,” Frack said as he looked around.

“Not yet. Too much of a chance of hitting something. You can walk,” Fred said.

Chopin tapped Fran on an ear. “Listen,” she whispered.

Fran stopped, holding a hand up. “Listen. Is that… singing?” she whispered. Faintly, the four could hear a strong voice singing a song from ‘Fiddler on the Roof’. “If I were a rich man…”

“The fellow has a good voice,” Fred whispered. “He’s no amateur.”

“I go look,” Chopin squeaked as she took off from Fran’s headfur. She looked at the singer and what was going on before coming back. “He’s collecting camping foods, loading them into a pack. He’s wearing a white coat and loose greenish pants. He’s like Fran, but what I saw was white fur, not dark. He has a pistol in a belt worn over his white coat.”

“How can we meet up with him without shots being fired?” Freida whispered.

“Leave that to me,” Fred ordered. “All of you, behind me. Fran, you’re at the back. Keep your pistol ready, but do not draw unless he does, clear? Same with you, Maw. Chance is coming up.”

Fred carefully moved up until he was just out of sight of the singer. He listened, waiting until the singer got to the second-to-last line, “...Would it spoil some vast eternal plan!...” the singer shouted.

Under cover of the shouting, Fred stepped into the aisle where the singer was. Matching tone and cadence, he did the last line with the singer. “If I were a wealthy man?”

Startled, the singer, dressed in a doctor’s coat, surgical scrub pants and crudely modified slippers, looked at Fred, then the others when they came out of hiding. He just looked for a moment, dropping the dehydrated food packs he was holding into his pack. “You, mister, have a very good voice,” he said in a heavy Yiddish accent. “Are you a cantor at a synagogue?”

“No, former sexton of Saint Isidore’s church, Columbus, Nebraska. I’m Fred Halvorsen, the griffoness is my long time wife Freida, the pegasus is Frack Larsen, and the pretty kitty is Fran Vasquez. We’re all from Nebraska, heading south. Who are you?” Fred asked patiently. Fran moved her paw away from her pistol.

“I’m Doctor Moishe Horowitz, here at Saint Jude’s from Jerusalem on a one year time contract. Pediatric surgery a specialty, not that I have done much of that recently. You caught me shopping. There are crates in the back, I just never tore into them yet. There’s enough out here. How did you get here?” he asked, zipping shut the pack and putting it on.

“By boat. The captain’s down at the local marina, refueling. It’s been a long trip down from New Madrid. I’m the First Mate, Frack’s the Engineer, Freida’s supplies and medical, while Fran is the Tech officer. How long have you been back?” Fred asked.

The doctor looked at a rather elaborate watch on his right wrist. “My watch says it’s December sixteenth. I know it’s later than that, but I have not figured out when I came back, save that it was hot, dark and muggy,” he said. “Do you know what day it is?”

“February twenty-second. That means you came back in late July. Lots of weather here since I take it?” Fred asked. “Lots of debris about.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Oy! Such weather I have never seen before! Days of rain and high winds, breaking windows at the hospital, then hot and sticky for a while, then it gets cold. I spend much of my days just cleaning up, salvaging what I can. I do a lot of singing just because I can’t stand the silence, you know?” he said. “Been camping now since summer at the hospital. It keeps body and soul together, but what I wouldn’t give for some fish!”

Fred turned to look at the others. “Think we should invite the doctor for lunch aboard the boat?” he asked.

“If Frick says it’s okay, then I don’t see why not,” Freida said, looking at the others.

“Frick says it’s a good idea,” came from Freida’s radio. “I’ll put some river fish on to cook, along with a pot of porridge for the rest of us. Should I put on some venison?”

“That would be a good idea, Frick,” Freida advised, not touching her radio. We should be back in a half-hour or so. We’ll leave the wagon here for later.”

“Sounds like a plan, Freida. Let me get started on cooking. See you when you get here. Welcome to the party, Doctor Horowitz,” Frick said before concluding. “Deliverance out.”

“How did he know my name?” the doctor asked.

Fran pointed at Fred’s radio, strapped to his working harness. “This is set to transmit on one frequency while ours are on a second. The captain is listening all the time. It’s proved handy,” she said to the bemused doctor.

“I can well imagine. Should I bring my pack with me?” the doctor offered.

“No, we have plenty for now. You just leave it here, and we’ll get it on the way back. We would like to see if Saint Jude’s has some supplies we can use,” Fred told him. “Shall we get moving?”

“Not a bad idea!” the doctor affirmed.

Over a most convivial lunch, which went on for almost three hours, the three ponies, two Abyssinians, one griffon and a breezie talked over fish, venison, porridge and a preserved jar of apples from their dwindling preserves store. The crew of Deliverance told of their adventures coming down the various rivers, and Doctor Horowitz (Please, call me Moe- everyone else does!) told them of his life in Memphis, having the overnight shift that night, walking down a corridor when a bright flash hit and suddenly it was daytime outside, and instead of being an old man, he was a young white cat-man. “The main thing that bothers me about being like this is that I can’t get my yarmulke to stay in place. Fur’s too short to pin it, and my ears tend to flick them off,” he told them at one point.

About the ‘meshugganah minotaur down south’, Moe told the crew that while aware of each other, they tend to avoid each other, except on Tuesdays, where he wanders down that way for a few ‘office hours’ to tend to the medical needs of the ponies and of the minotaur. “That Elvis- bit of a hypochondriac, he is. He’d be coming up to see me every day for this or that or the other thing, except that he’s a real homebody. He won’t cross a freeway.”

“We’ve been warned about Elvis, Moe,” Frick told him. “About how he keeps the ponies there under thrall to feed his ego. What I want to know is how come YOU are not under his thrall.”

“Simple,” Moe said after a sip of coffee. “He may be meshuggineh, but he’s not stupid. He needs me, but I don’t need him. I stay north, he and his stay south, and other than my office hours, if one of his needs me, they know where I am. So long as he gets his narcotics every week, he’s happy.”

“Narcotics? What kind?” Freida asked, curious.

“Painkillers, mostly. Some hallucinogens, but not much, and not every week.”

“What about his herd? Are they under his control?” Frack asked. “What do they do down there?”

“About what anyone else in this world does, Frack. They’re renovating a nearby hotel, scavenging for food, fuel and everything else. They also are kept busy making costumes for his Friday and Saturday shows, where attendance is mandatory. I have to admit, he has a wonderful voice, but without a backing band, he’ll need to have one!” Moe said with a laugh.

“You’ve heard him perform? Why are you not a regular there?” Fred asked.

“I only went one time. Everyone else was having a great time, but I didn’t find it so great. After the show, I told Elvis and the rest that while it was an all right show, it just wasn’t my kind of music. We agreed to my ‘office hours’ and emergency visits, and I have not been back to a show since. Never been a fan of ‘Elvis the Pelvis’, not even back in the day,” Moe remarked.

“If I may ask, Doctor Moe, just how old were you when the Event happened?” Fran asked politely.

“Would you believe I was almost eighty? I only came over to Saint Jude’s because my Gilda passed on just after Hanukkah last year, and Tel Aviv became a lonely place. So, I packed up what I wanted, sold everything else to the kids, had myself a nice going away party before signing a contract to practice at Saint Jude’s before schlepping my way here. Seeing kids walking out of here with a smile on their faces was just the tonic my heart needed,” Moe said, a sad smile on his face, remembering.

“Well, one purpose we have here is freeing the ponies from Elvis’ thrall, as we explained earlier,” Fred said aloud. “Any ideas on how to pull off such a feat?”

“Ideas, oh, I can come up with a few, but before I say anything, I have one question to ask, Fred,” Moe said, holding up one finger. “Why?”

“We were asked to, by a Native American somewhat-legend, Chief Kolopin, also known as Chief Reelfoot. Apparently, some Chickasaw and Chocktaw are under Elvis’ compulsion, and he wants them freed. It would be nice to have spirits and deities owing us favors,” Fred told the Abyssinian.

Frick took that moment to ask, “Just how many ponies are under his thrall?”

Moe paused, counting on his fingers. “Thirteen. Twelve horses and a part-time parrot. He’s the one who lets me know when I’m needed to treat any injuries. He finds me, I get on my little scooter, grab my pack, and scoot on down. Then again, it sputters more and more, so I wind up pedaling.”

“Now, that I can fix. Just need a tune-up and some clean fuel. It’s not that hard to do, and you got much of what you need right there in the hospital. Gauze, cotton and sheets. You’ll need a foot pump to get the gas through the filter, and some octane booster to replace the decayed fractions, but we can do that,” Frack offered.

“He can do it, too!” Freida exclaimed. “He keeps the boat running, and right now, the filter system is cleaning several hundred gallons of diesel fuel so we can keep it in the tanks!”

“Where do you get the clean water? That’s one thing I miss, pure clean water. Getting it out of bottles can be bland, as well as drinking what comes out of camping filters,” Moe asked.

“The boat came with a water distilling unit aboard. Not big, and we have to be careful with showers, but it works, even in the Big Muddy,” Frick said.

“Come see me before you decide to leave. I just might want to travel with you. Seems to me this WSU you’re going to can do with a fresh doctor,” Moe said with an impish twinkle in his eye.

The crew of the Deliverance looked at each other, communicating by glance. Frick spoke after a few seconds. “Moe, I’m sure that would be a good idea. We’re going to have to figure out where you can bunk, either here in the saloon or hot-bunking with some of us. If you’re willing to put up with that for as long as it takes to reach Havana or Key West, then all I can say is let’s give it a shot, okay?”

“That’s all I can ask for. Who wants to make the Tuesday trip with me to Graceland?” Moe asked.

“Ask me again tomorrow, Moe,” Frick told the Abyssinian. “Today, we have some scavenging to do, as well as seeing you home. Going to Graceland depends on our stores loadout and fuel status. I’ll have a better idea tomorrow.”

“You’re a smart fellow, Frick. I can tell that already,” Moe said in his thick Yiddish accent.

Around ten Tuesday morning, Moe rode his overhauled and renewed moped from St. Jude’s to where the Deliverance was moored, to head down to Graceland. Going with the doctor are the three ponies, Frick, Frack and Fred, and Freida, the griffon. Moe led the four down through the deteriorating streets of downtown Memphis. Once south of I-55, it became apparent that some places are being maintained, others scavenged from, and one place, the Graceland Hotel, is being made habitable. Power stations are being put together, gasoline stocks being purified and set aside for generators. All of it being done in just such a way, a troop of Boy Scouts can do a better job at reconstruction than the dozen ponies currently living there. They slavishly follow Elvis’ directions, even when the workers have no clue on how to DO the orders they had been given.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that the minotaur made an appearance. The minotaur (call me Elvis) met and shook hooves with the Deliverance delegation, sunlight glinting off his jewelry, sizing them up, more than likely.

“Sorry for not meeting with you sooner, but ah have work in the back garden only I can get done properly,” he told the group. The other ponies nearby kept at their tasks, not really heeding the imposing presence of the minotaur. To them, they see him every day.

The Deliverance crew sized him up as well, and there is a lot of size to up. The minotaur stood a good two meters tall, the horns making him seem even taller. He wore a white jumpsuit with enough bling to dazzle a horde of fans, the ponies able to see themselves in the reflection of a gold belt buckle that must have been six inches wide and four high. An imposing figure the minotaur cut, looking down at the ponies and griffon. He offered tickets to the Friday and Saturday shows, hopefully with some music behind it. “Do you think you can have some sort of stereo system set up by Friday night?” the minotaur asked. The tickets were for Graceland, and dated the previous year, but the offer was accepted by the ponies, who quickly put them away.

“I should say so, Elvis! I should have it ready by Thursday. Just need a generator, gas, a table and a stereo and someone to spin vinyl,” Frick told the minotaur with enthusiasm.

“Bro knows what he’s doing, Mister E!” Frack affirmed. By the time he’s done, ponies will be coming up from New Orleans to hear your music!”

“We can get it done, Mister Elvis. We handle the big jobs!” Fred said with enthusiasm.

Freida shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. She made her way clear from the center of action to use her radio, on ship frequency two. “Cornhusker Three to Cornhusker Five. You copy?”

“This is Cornhusker Five. What’s going on, Three?” Fran called back.

“I think something strange is going on with the boys. They want to stay around and improve the quality of Elvis’ show. How they plan on it, I don’t know. Something’s up, and all the ponies here have fallen for it. The only ones who have not fallen for the minotaur’s charms are Moe, Joaquin the parrot, and myself. He knows we’re here, he talks a good talk, but whatever he’s doing to the ponies, it’s not bothering us. Something to watch out for.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Three. Going to be home for dinner?” Fran asked.

“If not, I’ll call. Pardon, Frick’s coming.” Freida said as she let go of the mic switch.

“Freida, tomorrow, you take boat duty. I want Fran here to help me set up a sound system for Elvis, at the sound stage. Today, Frack, Fred and I are going to scavenge for generators and sound equipment. Tomorrow, we’ll bring the wagon. It’s Tuesday, and he wants it ready by Friday night, so we had best get cracking!” Frick said, sounding as eager as Frack is starting a job.

“Okay, Frick. What time do you plan on knocking off? I can let Fran know and have dinner ready,” Freida asked, her concern more noticeable by her tone of voice than by the set of her crest feathers.

“Can’t say for sure yet. I have to check out the sound stage first, to see what’s good and what I need to replace. Frack and Fred are going to check the electrical systems. Elvis wants to put on a good show, and we’re going to help him!” Frick said with joy. “You can leave with Moe when you want. We’ll probably knock off and head home when it's too dark to see.”

Freida sighed. “You’re the boss, Frick. Let me have some words with my husband, okay?”

“If you can catch up to him! He’s heading to the power station with Frack and one of the locals. Gotta run! Wasting daylight!” Frick said before trotting off to the sound stage.

Freida raised her radio to her beak once Frick was far enough away to not overhear. “Cornhusker Three to Cornhusker Five. Looks like we got us a problem. Film at six on NewsWatch Seven,” she said.

“Cornhusker Five copies traffic. Will await the film at six on NewsWatch Seven,” Fran replied, catching the code words Freida used.

That evening, aboard Deliverance, Freida, Fran, Moe and Joaquin sat around the saloon table, having a decidedly non-vegan dinner. “What you say about the ponies falling under his compulsions have been like that since before I arrived,” Joaquin reported. “I go along because it is better to be in a group, Elvis likes me, and I do not want to be alone. I was alone for days before finding Elvis, and no slight on Doctor Moe, but hospitals and I don’t get along.”

“As I have said before, Joaquin, there is no problem with that. I’m glad for the messenger service, but if you do not want to live at Saint Jude’s, then I won’t worry about it,” Moe told the Ornithian, looking at him with a gentle smile on his feline face.

“It’s not that, Doctor Moe. I don’t want to live at Saint Jude’s AGAIN. I did when I was seven, for six months after a bad wreck. Took that long for all the bones to knit,” Joaquin said, shivering at the memory. “Brings back too many bad memories.”

“So, all the ponies immediately fall under Elvis’ sway at first meeting?” Fran asked.

Joaquin nodded after a piece of venison. “Immediately at the first meeting. Every pony I have seen that arrived after me, falls right under his influence, eager to do what he says as best they can. None have left yet, nor do they want to. A couple of the ponies are trying to refurbish the Graceland Hotel, at least partially. It’s habitable, but the power station isn’t fully working yet,” he told the group.

“Will the boys even come home for dinner tonight?” Freida asked.

“I should say so,” Moe said. “At least tonight. After, no promises. They will try to find any reason to stay there to finish their assigned work. It’s like Elvis becomes an obsession to whomever he meets, and all the ponies want to do is to cater to his every whim.”

“Why it does not affect Doctor Moe or me, I don’t know,” Joaquin added.

“It doesn’t affect me, either,” Freida said. “Right now, the common point I see is that we are NOT ponies. There are five earth ponies, four unicorns and three pegasi, plus one more of each, and all are under Elvis’ sway. What can we do about it?”

“I don’t know about you, but first thing I will do is send the WSU an email describing what we have found here and ask if they have any information they could send us about this,” Fran declared.

“What’s the WSU?” Joaquin asked. Freida and Fran quickly explained about the World Seafarer’s Union, and how they planned to join up with them. “Sounds like some good people.”

“From what we already know, they are. Do your folk have any sort of shortwave or world-band radios?” Fran asked Joaquin.

“No, nobody’s thought of it. When there are twelve ponies, myself and a minotaur, with a cat for a neighbor, imagining there are others is not easy. Plus, Elvis has his projects, and none of them involve looking for others that I know of,” Joaquin answered.

“Well, I’m going to find out something,” Freida said, slightly irritated at the implications of what she is learning about Elvis. “Cornhusker Base to Cornhusker One, priority two.” After a minute of silence, she repeated her call.

“Cornhusker One to Cornhusker Base, I hear you. What do you want?” Frick answered, sounding a bit irritated. Freida knew that was not usual for him, but not unknown.

“Cornhusker One, are the three of you going to be returning tonight? I would like my husband back,” she said with a little snark in her tone.

“Cornhusker Base, we will be back tonight, all three of us. Tomorrow we may stay the night, depending on how much work needs to be done. The sound system here should work, if I can feed power to it. I think we should be back within two hours, if I remember the maps right,” Frick said, sounding like he wasn’t paying full attention to his words.

“Well, if you are NOT back within two hours, remind Fred that I have the claws to pierce his ear, and I will fly out, find him, and drag him back if he is not here!” Freida snapped.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Three. We’ll be back when we get back. Cornhusker One out.” Frick concluded.

“From what little I know of all of you, I have to say that is not usual for the Captain, is it?” Moe asked.

“No, it is not. All three of them know that I have a long fuse temper, but if it goes off, I can whoop ass with the best of them. They’re in for some serious questioning when they get home.

“What about you, Joaquin? Plan on heading back?” Freida asked, her tone changing quickly from anger to concern.

“Yes, I will be, and soon. Flying at night, I can do it, but only when the moon is out. It’s not like there’s a big beacon light I can home in on. Plus, it would not do to let Elvis wonder what the hell I’m doing out for so long. If I plan on spending time with Doctor Moe, I let him know first,” Joaquin said before finishing his cup of coffee.

Freida nodded. “It would not do to have Elvis wonder. He’s so fixated on himself and his impersonations, I’m surprised he notices anything else around him.”

“What makes you think he does?” Moe countered. “He’s fixated on his performances, and having everyone working on making the area more habitable for everyone. I’m sure the generators will come on within a couple of weeks at most.”

“Plus working on the landscaping around the back of Graceland,” Joaquin told the group. “That’s something Elvis works on mainly by himself. Sometimes he’ll take an earth pony or a unicorn back there, but when I ask them about what’s back there, what they say doesn’t match what I see.”

Freida frowned as she thought. Two plus two kept adding up to twenty-two, and she knew there were pieces of the equation missing. “Something’s not adding up. Frick, Frack and Fred are in for some questioning when they get home. ESPECIALLY Fred,” she said, the determination in her voice coming through loud and clear, this griffon is not to be crossed.

“Joaquin, I think it’s time for this old cat to find his home. Care to escort me there?” Moe asked.

“Yes, Doctor Moe. We should get you home before it gets too dark,” Joaquin agreed. “Freida, should I tell your friends to come straight home?”

“Yes, thank you, Joaquin. Please do so. Remind them of the number-ten cast iron skillet,” Freida said sharply.

“Do I want to know about that? Joaquin asked curiously.

Moe quickly got up from his chair. “I'll tell you on the way back to the hospital, okay? It is one interesting story,” he said in a Yiddish accent that just shouted wisdom, patting the two-way radio he had been given the day before. They said their good-byes and departed.

Fran and Freida watched Moe’s moped tail light vanish as he drove up the pedestrian walkway. “You’ve got an idea forming, don’t you?” Fran said quietly to Freida.

“More than one. It’s deciding which one to use. I need more information, and with God’s help, I’ll have it by tonight!” Freida declared, smacking a fist into her open palm. Fran decided to get the dishes done without saying anything more. Freida went up to the fly bridge to await the menfolk’s arrival.

It was an hour and a half later before Freida could hear the echoing hoof clops of the approaching menfolk on the foot bridge connecting the island to the mainland. Using the fly bridge controls, she turned on a spotlight and shone it at the approaching trio. “Where have you been?” she screeched from her perch. “You should have been home an hour ago!”

Fred called back up to his wife, “Doing God’s work, or the next best thing! Hope you have supper on the table!”

“Frederick Einar Halvorsen, remember what we’re here for! Who do you listen to most? Elvis, Raven, Chief Reelfoot or God himself? You better give the right answer, or else you’ll be sleeping alone for the first time in almost fifty years!” she shouted.

Frick and Frack kept walking, but Fred stopped in his tracks as his wife’s words struck home. He didn’t stay paused for long, shaking his head hard enough to disarray his black mane beyond all hope of self-repair. “Got my tea, Maw?” he hollered back.

“Just need to drop the bag in!” she shouted as she made her way from the fly bridge to the saloon to do just that.

While Frick and Frack chowed down on the porridge and preserved fruit, Fred only picked at his meal. He leaned close to Freida and whispered, “Thanks, Maw. That Elvis, he’s a sneak of the first order. He has everyone working to his command, and I’m not certain how. You reminded me of who I DO serve, and I thank you for that. Have I ever said ‘I love you’, Freida?”

“More than once. What can we do about the others, and what about tomorrow?”

“Let me think. I may have to ask for advice,” Fred muttered, lapsing into silence as he ate. Frick and Frack were both suffering from what could be politely called ‘diarrhea of the mouth’, talking about what they did during the day, managing to praise and honor Elvis about every fifth word or so. It got to the point where Fran just could not take any more of the babble.

“Will you two SHUT UP for five minutes, for God’s sake?” she snapped before lapsing into a few words of Spanish that were vile, putrid, and foul.

Frick and Frack stopped mid-word, turning to glare at Fran. “Woman, it is not your place to tell us menfolk what to do!” Frick barked, his eyes glistening. Were he human, odds are he would have been reaching back to coldcock the cat. Freida, however, was faster, bringing her fist down on top of Frick’s head, avoiding the horn. Hard. Frick’s chin bounced off the table and he went unconscious.

“Paw, if you have any ideas, let’s have them now,” Freida said as Frack just watched in stunned surprise as Frick slid under the saloon table.

“Right, Maw,” Fred said as he reached for Frack with a forehoof and touched Frick with a rear hoof. “Freidrick Wolff Larsen, Frankland Wilhelm Larsen, listen to me. Stop playing Elvis’ game and play your own. Elvis’ game will only lead to ruin and unhappiness. Play with him, but you are your own game masters. Part of the game is not letting Elvis know he is commanding you any more. Just play along and we can count coup on him and his game.

“Elvis got to you once, but never again. Play along until we find his weaknesses and exploit them. He wants a sound stage and sound system, let’s give it to him before we let him have it!” Fred said in a low, but carrying voice, a white glow coming from his hooves and spreading over Frick and Frack. The glow persisted for a moment before fading.

“That should work, if I have matters correct. Any coffee, Maw?” Fred asked, his ears drooping.

“I’ll put some on, Paw,” Freida said, getting up to do so.

“Fred, just what did you do?” Fran asked, confused. Chopin’s antennae were waving about, which indicated the same thoughts were going through the pink breezie’s head.

“If I’m right, it countered what Elvis did to us, to a point. When we get back in his presence, his will will re-establish itself on us, making us his thralls again. But, once he is away from us, we will still do his bidding, but all it would take is a few words to break the compulsion. Doesn’t have to be specific, just enough for us to return to our own wills. Frick and Frack will need more help to break the compulsion than I will, because I have contact with Raven and other gods. I can make a thought shield to stop Elvis, and make it appear to the big bull that all is well. I got caught by surprise once. It won’t happen again,” Fred explained.

“Why were you three affected, but Freida was not? Nor are Joaquin and Doctor Moe.”

Fred shrugged. “Right now, I do not know. Ponies are affected, but no other species so far. Why that is, God knows, but not me.”

“But how will we end this menace?” Fran asked.

“Leave that to me,” Freida said in a voice so cold, frost filled the saloon.

“Freida, when you sound like that, I want to head somewhere safe, like Montana,” Frack said.

“Me, too!” Frick agreed.

Author's Note

Safe? Montana? Frick, you swore you would never go back there again!

So, in Memphis, and meeting up with a minotaur Elvis impersonator. Just what is the minotaur up to? Why is he mind-controlling ponies? What's going on in the back garden? For the answers to these and... shakes head until something is heard rattling about ...that was close. Desmond has his place, but not in this story!

Two weeks, friends! Don't hesitate to tell me what I did wrong and right, okay?

Oh- in case you have not got the update, Merchant Mariner has started part two of Along New Tides, Along New Tides II: Thalassocracy. Give him a read, too!

Chapter 12: Life with Elvis

“Ship’s log, stardate 1602.24, sunrise. First Officer Fred recording.

“I woke up early to make sure the spell I put on Frick, Frack and myself last night is reinforced before we go over to help Elvis’ crew today. If I’m right, Frick and Frack will go right back under Elvis’ compulsion, but I can break the compulsion with a phrase that Elvis should not know, that being the opening line to Twisted Sister’s greatest hit.

“Maw and I spent some of the night upstairs with Fran, plotting what to do in case we are kept from returning until after the show Friday night, which is what I suspect will happen. Everyone is invited to the Friday night show, which I hope will be a real… blockbuster.

“Maw will handle the logs for the rest of the week. Sandra, communication with us is going to be sparse through to the weekend, so don’t bother calling. We may have a very big surprise for you after Elvis is dealt with. Until we can get you a decent story, Deliverance out.”

Fred saved the audio file and sent it via email to the WSU, having to use a pen between his teeth to enter the commands into the computer. Fran promised a voice-activated system when she could find the programs required to do so, and Fred hoped it would be soon. Of all on board, he was the slowest when it came to using the computer, and he had to use a special stylus to use tablets. He kept at least two on him when he had his harness on. Better than clothes, except when it was cold out. At least it gave him something like pockets.

After breakfast, the three ponies and Fran headed to Graceland, ready to help do maintenance work. To be honest, of the twelve ponies there, none of them had any real experience on how to build or rebuild things, so they just do the best they can to follow Elvis’ orders to rebuild. In Fred the sexton and handyman’s view, it was Hell’s own mess. Fred did give them credit, they were trying their best.

At Graceland, the four reported to the minotaur, who was dressed this day in a crudely-done Hawaiian shirt pieced together from two others and a pair of board shorts that did fit. Fred did suggest that he could go around and help on some of the reconstruction, to show the ponies better ways of doing so. The minotaur thought for a moment, running his fingers through his pompadour. “You do that, Parson. I have to thank you for thinking of such a thing. You go around the construction sites and show everyone just what to do, okay?” Elvis told the earth pony.

“Sir, it would be an honor to do so,” Fred said, feeling the minotaur’s influence pervading his mind, but not affecting it. He turned to his crew. “You three work on the sound stage, getting it up to scratch. We’ll meet at lunch.”

“Right, Fred!” Fran agreed. Frick and Frack trotted off, eager to get started. Fran followed at a more sedate pace. Elvis went around to the back of Graceland, to work on whatever his project back there is.

Fred did as instructed, finding ponies hard at work at one project or another. The first group he sought out is the one working on the electrical system. By lunch, he had shown the three (two unicorns and an earth pony) how to do wiring in such a way that when power was applied to the system, it would not go up in a shower of sparks.

“I knew I wasn’t doing it right, but I could not figure out what I was doing wrong. Thank you for showing us the right way, Sexton,” said the black and red unicorn stallion, Dawson Stalking Crane.

“No shame in not knowing how, Dawson. You were just doing your best to follow Elvis’ orders. What did you do Before?” Fred asked as he watched Dawson and the other unicorn, Gracella Whitespot, re-doing their earlier bad splices properly.

“College freshman, University of Memphis, mathematics,” Dawson said absently, focusing more on his splicing work.

“While I loaded planes for FedEx,” Gracella informed Fred.

“Now I know why you didn’t know how to do good electrical splicing. Let me check on Laura’s digging and lining the conduit trench,” Fred told the pair, referring to the earth pony in the group, Laura Polderin. “Keep on replacing the splices in this line from here back to the generator. Elvis will like it if we get this done before the show on Friday.” The two unicorns picked up the pace.

At the Sound Stage, Frick, Frack and Fran were hard at work, wiring up a turntable, CD player and mixing board, along with speakers. By late afternoon, they were ready to try out the system. Fran fetched a generator, set it up and ran a line inside to the makeshift studio platform. Frick plugged the line into the power bars operating the haywired system. “Hope this works…” he muttered as he started turning on the equipment, his purple glow flickering over everything.

Frick visibly relaxed as the power-up lights came on, without the accompaniment of arcs, sparks and smoke. “Okay, step one complete. Now for step two,” he said, pulling out a CD from his saddlebag and loading it.

“You know what all these switches do, Frick?” Fran asked as she looked over the contraption.

“Fran, not only was I Chief Engineer for thirty years, I did the occasional fill-in board shift, covering for no-shows or vacations. Average of about thirty to forty air shifts a year. I know what I’m doing here. If it works,” Frick said as he pushed the ‘play’ button. Three seconds later, ‘The Snakes Crawl At Night’ by Charlie Pride came over the speakers. He immediately checked everything he could check before boosting the volume, just listening while the song played out, eyes closed, ears swiveling to catch the sound.

“Is he normally like this at work?” Fran asked Frack quietly.

Frack nodded. “He loves music, country in particular. He would love nothing more than to perform, but three things are blocking him. They are the fact he’s almost completely tone deaf, is musically illiterate, and he can’t carry a tune if it was dyed into his hair. So he does the next best thing. If he can’t bring music to others on his own, he can maintain the station that brings his music. That wool cap he found in Fremont? It has speakers in it, so he can listen without disturbing me while we’re in the cabin.”

Fran was about to say something, but Frick spoke first. “Fran, I want you to go out on stage and test the microphone out there. You’re the closest to Elvis’ height, and if it works well for you, it should work for him,” he told her. “Just sing what comes to mind.”

“Right, Frick,” she said before going out on stage. Once there, she turned the microphone on and freed it from the stand. She paused for a few seconds, her toe tapping before she started ‘Vive’ by Kabah. Frick let her sing for thirty seconds before shutting the microphone feed off.

“Okay, Fran. That was outstanding!” Frick called from the table where his gear was set up. “I’m going to have to find that song, even though I can hardly understand it!”

Fran turned the microphone off and put it back on the stand. “Just wait until you hear the music that goes with it. I’m going to have to search some stores now for it!” she laughed as she walked back to the table.

“Maybe I’ll join you when Elvis gives me a day off. Probably next Sunday, we’ll search Memphis for some music.”

“Sounds like a plan, Frick. Ready to head back to the Deliverance for dinner?” Fran asked.

Both Frick and Frack hesitated, their duty to the boat and crew being interfered with by Elvis’ compulsion. “We had best check with Elvis before we go. It would be rude to leave without his blessing,” Frack said slowly, feeling the double pull on his conscience.

“Then, let’s find him. We worked through lunch, and unlike you, I’m hungry!” Fran lashed out with. “Let’s shut down the generator to save fuel, find Elvis and head home, in that order!”

“Okay, Fran,” Frick said dubiously. They did that, finding Fred with Elvis discussing reclamation and rebuilding methods. When Fred noticed the trio, he asked if they could go back to the boat, which was swiftly granted by the minotaur.

“Y’all be back here at eight in the morning, okay, ready to put in a full day of work before the show. Is everything working?” the big bull asked.

“Initial tests are saying yes. I’ll bring some custom tools tomorrow and I’ll tweak and peak the systems to do the best they can, sir!” Frick said enthusiastically. “It will not be as good as a true stage, but it will be the best I can make of it!”
“That’s good to hear. Now, head on back to your boat and I’ll see you tomorrow, all of you. Got it?”

“We got it, Mister Elvis!” Fred said. “The work of a pastor is never done, tending to his flock.”

“How correct you are, Pastor,” Elvis said. “Go forth and return in the morning!”

Thus commanded, the four did just that, returning to the Deliverance. Fran called in when the group crossed I-240, so Freida knew they were coming. Freida had already called Moe and Joaquin down for dinner, and had laid out a spread for everyone.

When Frick got aboard the Deliverance, he looked at the cat and bird, surprised. “You going behind my back again, woman? I didn’t authorize any visitors!” he said angrily.

Fred snapped, “Frick, Frack, We’re not gonna take it!'' The phrase tripped the subliminal triggers Fred had implanted, and the two ponies shook their heads violently, disarraying their already haphazard manes even more.

“Fred, thank you,” Frick said soberly, Frack nodding in agreement. “That Elvis has some power!”

“That he does, but, I have a counter. Let’s just hope I’m good enough to mask our efforts,” Fred said before chugging a cup of hot lavender-chamomile tea.

Frick asked, “Fran, what do you feel? Compelled to obey or not?”

Fran thought while she had a slice of venison. “I can’t quite explain it, Frick. It’s like it’s better if I play along, because if I didn’t, life would get very nasty for all of us. It’s like there’s a power behind him that is not quite aware of anything but ponies, and I don’t want to call attention to myself by not following the instructions given.”

Moe gestured as he sipped from a glass of wine. “I like the way you said that, Fran. With me, I told him flat out that I would not join his group, that I had a higher calling. He accepted that, and has not given me any grief since. I have office hours once a week, bring him his meds, and we leave each other alone.”

“While I’m an utter mechanical moron, and I said I don’t care for his music,” Joaquin added. “I hang around because I don’t want to be alone.”

“I also notice he doesn’t bother you much at all,” Freida observed. “Have you managed to take a picture of what he’s doing in Graceland’s back garden?”

Joaquin nodded, pulling a cell phone from his shirt pocket. “I’m glad you were able to charge it. Now, Fran should be able to download it to your computer. It looks like some sort of fancy markings, almost like a language, but not one I have seen before. I just hope I wasn’t noticed,” he said as he passed it to Fran, who took it and looked it over. “Code for security is 0987.”

“At least it wasn’t 1234…” Fran muttered as she unlocked the phone.

“So I’m dyslexic. I get things backwards all the time,” Joaquin squawked.

“You still do good, young fellow,” Moe said, reassuring the parrot.

“Okay, what is next on the agenda?” Freida asked.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to suggest working on some light systems. Every actor likes a spotlight on them while performing,” Frick announced. “Going to need your help rigging cables to the ceiling, bro.”

“I can do that. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with something,” Frack said to his brother.

“I’m sure I will hear the hollow clonk noise from here…” Freida snarked.

“You just might, Freida,” Moe agreed. “The question is, will I hear it at the hospital?”

“If you do, that just means all is well between us, Moe,” Frick countered.

Moe just muttered, “Oy gevalt…”

Thursday the 25th, the Deliverance crew, except for Freida, were hard at work at the Sound Stage, setting up lights, seating, and speakers for the best audio. In the afternoon, Elvis himself came by, bringing karaoke CD’s with the songs he wanted to do, playlist desires, and setting up on stage for light checks. Frick, Frack and Fred were most insistent that they mark the stage properly, so Elvis would be in the best light for the show. This, of course, pleased the minotaur greatly, and he readily acquiesced to the staging requests. The three ponies went into great detail on the staging, making sure they knew what Elvis would be doing through the entire hour.

Once that was set, Frick drilled Frack on the light control panel, because he could not run the sound equipment and lights at the same time. They used their radios to help coordinate, while Fran built a wooden mockup of Elvis to place on the marks, moving it about as needed, wearing sunglasses. They did one walk-through of the show before knocking off for the night, Elvis having granted permission to do so when he was present earlier.

Back at the boat, after Fred cleared the minds of Frick and Frack from Elvis’ pernicious influences, Freida gave a report on what she learned from the WSU about what the minotaur is doing in the back garden. “What it appears is that Elvis is trying to power up a gate, working on his fans' combined loyalty and admiration OF HIM to power it. It is doubtful that Friday’s performance would be sufficient to activate the spell, but it would charge the ‘spell battery’ a lot. Estimates are that it will take three or four shows, with everyone present, to power the spell.”

“Just what is the spell going to do?” Moe asked.

“The WSU is not completely certain. More than likely it’s a summoning portal, designed to bring someone or something here to Earth from wherever it’s set for. Just who or what it is designed to summon, no one is certain. Knowing what Elvis is doing to the ponies here, it cannot be considered benevolent,” Freida told the group.

“Do you have any plans on taking him down, and what will happen after, if we’re successful?” Frick asked.

“Yes, we have and no, we’re not going to say what, Frick,” Fred said in flat tones. “You and Frack are too open to his control. I have divine backing. You don’t. No plans will be discussed in your presence.”

“Well, what you say makes sense,” Frick agreed.

“However, some plans can be discussed, and we had best do them now while we’re all here. Tomorrow’s the show, and we don’t have to show up until noon. Show starts at seven, and I know he wants everyone there,” Fred said, looking around the table.

“But, that means we’ll have to leave the boat unattended!” Frick said, shock and horror evident in his voice. “I won’t stand for that!”

“You won’t have to, Frick. You’ll sit down for it,” Fred sighed. “Tonight, I’m going to train Doctor Moe and Joaquin to operate the boat, but under a lockout code that I’ll have Fran program in so as to limit them to basic shipkeeping functions only, and not getting into the records or phone systems.”

“Who will be here?” Frack asked.

“I know I have to show up before the show, to deliver his poisons of choice for the show, but I won’t have to stay for it. Joaquin can be here at the start, then I’ll relieve him once I get here. That way, when the show is over, let me know you’re on the way home,” Moe said. “My moped is the fastest thing in town, except for those who have wings.”

“I like that idea,” Joaquin chirped. “I can be here before noon, telling Elvis honestly I have been asked to watch your boat. He knows I don’t like his music, and never forces me to stay around when he does perform. I can be here before noon so everyone can go to the show for set-ups.”

“I think that’s a very good idea,” Fred told the group. “The boat will not be unattended, Elvis will have the blessing of an appreciative audience, and some of us get to practice new skills, in order to serve the one who pulls the strings, right?”

Everyone raised their coffee cup, water glass or Coke can in a mock toast. “For duty and ponanity!” all chorused.

Promptly at noon the next day, the Fearsome Fivesome plus one arrived at the Sound Stage, to find Elvis’ entire crew there, along with Elvis himself. The six were invited to join them for lunch, which was being made in a large pot outside the Sound Stage. While they ate, Elvis gave them their instructions for the afternoon.

“Parson Fred, I’m putting you in charge of everyone until after the show and I take over. All of you, if Fred says to do something, it is as if I told you. Make sure the Sound Stage is ready to go by seven. Frick, Frack, you go on dinner break at five, because I will be here at six to go over the show with the two of you. Everyone else, dinner is at six, show will start promptly at seven and run about an hour. Until then, I have to go prepare,” the minotaur told his very attentive audience.

“I understand, Elvis,” Fred said. “All will be ready for your show tonight. We may not be like Las Vegas, but we’ll do our best.”

“Ah know that, Parson. My gratitude to all of you,” Elvis said as he glanced at a rather ornate watch on his wrist. “I must hurry. Until later, all.” The minotaur then ran from the Sound Stage toward Graceland, and the back of the mansion.

Fred looked at the dozen and a half ponies and others sitting around the fire. “You heard the man, let’s get to work.” He broke down the ponies to specific tasks, like one watching the generators, one to make sure the fuel for them was available, a team doing specific cleanup of the Sound Stage seating area, and two to put a polish on the stage itself. Frick and Frack were detailed to their usual tasks, setting up the lights and sound.

Once all ponies were off and working, Fred gathered Freida, Fran and Moe in a separate room. “Okay, everyone have their tools for later?” he asked.

“I have all of Elvis’ usual medications set up in this bag. I just have to leave it in his ‘dressing room’, and he’ll handle the rest,” the white Abyssinian reported. “No funny stuff, just his usual order.”

“Good. No need to make him suspicious. Now, you go put the pouch in his dressing room before heading back to the Deliverance. I’ll be in this area, so have Joaquin find me here after you relieve him. We’ll be in touch,” Fred instructed.

“Sounds good to me,” Moe said, getting up. “At least the moped runs better now than before!”

“That it does,” Fred said before looking at someone else. “What about you, Maw?”

“I’ll be all set up shortly after the show starts, Paw. I’ll be in the right place at the right time. Just keep the lights and sound up,” Freida said quietly, a look of grim determination on her face.

“Will do. Oh, Maw, check out Elvis’ wardrobe. Make sure everything’s as good as it can be. If you have to do some sewing, do your best. Fran, do your best in helping everyone here so that Elvis will be able to put on the show of his life. Got it?” Fred asked sternly.

“Got it, Fred,” Fran replied.

“Can do, Paw. Let’s make the big bull happy!”

For the next few hours, everyone there did just that. Fred wandered from group to group, supervising, instructing, and helping as needed. Freida checked over Elvis’ costumes, finding a white jumpsuit that was not only clean, but in near-pristine condition. She checked it over thoroughly, ensuring it was good to go before putting it on a hangar in the dressing room of the Sound Stage, along with what jewelry was there. She was sure the minotaur had more in Graceland itself, but it never hurt to have a backup. Fran worked with Frick and Frack, helping them tweak and peak the mixing and light boards. She also plugged a flash drive into a spare socket on the mixing board, telling Frick it’s a backup of the CD’s he was going to use for the show.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to use it,” Frick said. “I’ve been drilling for days!”

“I hope we don’t have to, either. Pays to be sure, right?” Fran replied.

“That it does. Do we have a third CD-ROM drive? I don’t remember.”

“I’ll look for it, Frick. I think there’s one in the engineer’s tool room.”

Moe went back to the Deliverance, and Joaquin flew back about an hour after Moe left. “Wind’s picking up out of the south. Looks like it may start storming around show time,” the parrot reported once he found Fred.

“Well, that’s great,” Fred grumbled. “A nice, long, WET walk home in the dark. Something to look forward to. What’s HE up to?”

“Looked to me he was praying in the center of the back garden. He does that before the shows he puts on. Why, I don’t know.”

“I think I do. Explanations to follow. Help me keep an eye on everyone. He put me in charge of everyone before the show,” Fred explained.

“He does that,” Joaquin agreed. “Usually it’s Dawson Stalking Crane or Lucida Parker,” referring to one of the other unicorns.

“Tread carefully, compadre. With great power comes great responsibility,” Joaquin cautioned.

“Well I know it, Mister. Well I know it.”

When Frick and Frack broke for dinner, Freida went as well, to be able to chat with Elvis about costuming before the show. Turned out that wasn’t needed, because when Elvis arrived at six, he brought along a bag that had several costumes and his desired jewelry in it. “Ah do thank you for even thinking of it, Missus Freida, but ah got that taken care of. Do some last-minute checks an’ make shuah all is ready, please?” he asked.

“Of course, Mister Elvis. I will do that,” Freida said before leaving the presence. She did just that, inspecting the stage and the seating area, seeing the marks were in place, the wireless microphone had fresh batteries, and the seating just so, especially hers.

By seven, all were in their places, awaiting the show. Promptly at seven, the stage lit up with a flash of all the lights and a boom of drums and trumpets before a single spotlight highlighted the microphone. Elvis strode out, in a sparkling white sequined suit, liberally bedecked with jewelry.

A cheer went up from the ponies as he picked up the mic. The opening notes of ‘Jailhouse Rock’ boomed from the speakers, Elvis picking up at the right moment. This went on through the show, Frick starting the karaoke tracks properly, Frack keeping Elvis in the spotlights as he moved about the stage, and the ponies cheering. Even Fred could feel the presence, the power, the command the minotaur had over the ponies. He could feel it, but that was all. He was still his own pony.

Occasionally, through the show, a thunder clap was heard, generally between songs, because the music was loud enough to cover up the thunder. It didn’t interrupt the festivities.

When the final song of the ‘concert’, ‘Suspicious Minds’, started, Fred reached into his saddlebags and pulled out two items, his radio and his mp3 player. He had the radio off, because Frick and Frack were using theirs to coordinate. He turned it on now, along with the mp3 player, which was set to a particular song. He held the player’s speaker to the radio microphone.

Dee Snyder’s voice was heard, shouting ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It! NO!’ blasting right at Frick and Frack. As expected, the coded phrase and song blew through Elvis’ programming, restoring their wills to their control. The duo, however, did not betray the fact they were clear of the minotaur, and kept on doing what they were doing.

Freida got up to head for the ladies’ room, while Fran made her way to an opposing corner of the seating area. The crowd (such as it was) was whipped into a frenzy, singing along with the minotaur. As the song ended, the building shook with a clap of thunder that was louder than it should be, as well as longer. Elvis stood on the stage, a shocked look on his face, as blood trickled down his nose from the third eye socket that appeared in his forehead. The shocked look was replaced by pain from the second shot that caught him in the throat.

The stunned silence in the room after the thud of Elvis’ body hitting the floor was broken by Freida’s snarl from the ladies room door, a fifty-caliber rifle in her claws. “NOBODY messes with my husband and friends and gets away with it!”

Author's Note

Sorry that it's shorter than usual. Chronic fatigue and brain fog has been hitting me hard. I'm glad I got this out.

Don't EVER piss off a griffon hen. Especially when messing with her mate. It could have lethal consequences.

Until the next chapter! waves tiredly before flopping back in bed

Chapter 13: After Elvis...

The only sounds in the Sound Stage were the rain and occasional thunder from outside. Everypony inside was stunned into silence, because the report of a fifty-caliber rifle is LOUD, the one from a forty-five only slightly less so. Freida stepped away from her rifle, which was positioned just so against the wall by the ladies’ room. She walked up to the stage, where the corpse of the minotaur Elvis lay, blood still coming from the ruined throat, polished horns and jewelry glittering in the stage lights. Fran came from her hiding spot, her forty-five held in a ready position, safety on. Together, they inspected the corpse.

“I thought I jumped a bit,” Fran muttered. “I was aiming for the eye.”

“Still, you hit the throat, which is just as good,” Freida said quietly as she checked for any signs of life. There wasn’t, because what was not quite visible from the front is that the back of the minotaur’s head had been blown out by Freida’s bullet, leaving a fine spray of brains and blood over the back of the stage that could be seen by the two ladies, but not by anypony else, due to the stage elevation.

Fred made his way to the stage, taking slow, measured, loudly clopping steps. “May I have your attention, please, ladies and gentleponies,” he called out in a stage speaker’s voice, meaning he was plainly audible to everyone, even though he was not using a microphone. “Elvis has left the building.

“All of you are aware that Elvis has put me in charge until he takes command back. Since he will no longer be able to, I have some pronouncements to make to everypony.

“First, from this day forward, no being can ever control your mind. Elvis and his boss did, which made you all eager to follow his demands. Now, my command is to set those orders aside and work for yourselves. Over the next however long, my friends and I will remain here to help you establish yourselves properly. You have a chance here, ponies. Let us help you build yourselves up to where you not just survive, but thrive.

“Next, we are to consider ourselves a family, working together so we can live in comfort amidst the ruins of the old world. Before we leave, we will put you in contact with others who can help you, via long distance. None of you are dumb, and I’m sure we can get this done swiftly.

“Now, which among you considers yourself fit to lead the crew here?”

All was quiet as the assembled Memphis ponies all looked at each other, wondering who had the nerve to step forward. Eventually, a mottled turquoise blue and emerald green pegasus stepped forward, blue mane, green tail, and pale blue wings. “I will,” she said. “Stella DeMarco, formerly Sergeant in the Memphis P.D., street detail. Now that I don’t have the urge to bend down and kiss Elvis’ hooves, let’s see what it will take to get our act together. You’re willing to assist, right?”

“Yes, we are, Stella. We’re willing to delay our journey long enough to help you get on your hooves. Tonight, there are only a few chores that need doing. They are disposing of the trash and checking the back garden. Once that is done, everypony go get a good night’s sleep, and after breakfast, we will get together again at the hotel, where we can all sit and hash out what needs to be done. Will you need any help doing so tonight, Stella?” Fred asked.

“No, I don’t think so. We can get rid of the trash. Why check the back garden? That’s a no-go area,” Stella said.

“Elvis was in the process of building something, most likely to summon his boss from where it is to here. We must see to it that it is defaced and denatured enough to make it useless. From what I’m told, it’s simple enough to do, just make sure all the markings are blotted and scratched out. Tomorrow will be soon enough.

“Frick, Frack, let’s look into shutting things down here. Bring up the house lights and shut down the music, deal?” Fred advised.

“Right, Fred. Securing music station,” Frick said, shutting his gear down.

“Shut down spots, turn up house lights, aye,” Frack said from his station, bringing up what house lights he could before shutting down the spots. Stella called upon the unicorns to get the body outside, and two earth ponies to dig a hole to put it in.

In an elaborately set up tepee someplace else, a raven and a coyote watched the cleanup on a large crystal ball. They had already watched the performance. “Pay up,” Raven told his associate.

“How could she manage such a big gun? No way she could have hit him square!” Coyote complained as a pouch levitated from him to Raven.

“Patience, measurements, set up and a hell of a lot of luck, Trickster. You were paying too much attention to the ponies. Forgot that non-ponies were immune to the compulsion,” Raven replied, switching the crystal ball to a movie.

“Ponies are the most common here on this continent. Not enough of anything else to worry about,” Coyote maintained.

“Think again, old friend. Only takes the right one to undo plans. In this case, more than one, but I knew these people already. How could you have stopped Fred, anyhow?” Raven asked as he fast-forwarded through the credits of ‘Dancing With Wolves’.

“By working harder to keep him under control. I didn’t know at the time you had already touched him! He was smart, making it look to Elvis all was fine, but doing sneaky things out of his sight!” Coyote complained.

“You need to make more friends outside your circles, Coyote. I may not be local there, but I do have friends, like Chief Kolopin,” Raven said smugly.

“Shut up and pass the popcorn…”

The next morning, four of the Deliverance crew, and Doctor Moe, met up with the Memphis group for breakfast. The day was clear and cool, traces of last night’s storm evaporating. Fred brought the wagon, which was loaded with grains, fish for the pegasi, bread and butter, along with one of the spare coffeepots and a two-pound can of coffee. Frick and Fred let Stella coordinate breakfast preparations before sitting down with her.

“Have you outlined a plan for what you want to get done today, Stella?” Fred asked.

“Yes, I do, Fred. Today, I want to focus on the hotel we are staying at. Staying there and fixing it up is just going to be quite a lot for us to handle, so I am going to have us all move out of the hotel and go to the row of houses south of the mansion. I can have a crew sort through them and determine their suitability, and wiring up generators to each of the ones we choose so we can, at least, have power,” Stella told them.

“Not a bad idea at all, Stella,” Fred told her. “What about scavenging for supplies?”

“What I would like from your folk to start is to build us a couple of those folding wagons you have, so I can send teams out to scavenge. I would also like radios to help coordinate our movements. Fortunately, I know where to find some, like the local police station. Just going to need to get some doors open,” Stella said.

“That, I can help you with,” Frick told the former cop. “I can teach your unicorns how to use their magic to open simple locks. Better than beating a door down, right?”

“Got that right. Why break what you can’t fix? Once open, we can install our own locks, until you teach the other unicorns the trick.” Stella said around a slug of coffee.

“One thing we’re going to need is a lot of printer paper, ink and binders,” Fred said. “We can print out manuals for you, about what it takes to be a unicorn, pegasus, earth pony, Ornithian, or any other species. A basic text on magics, a bestiary, a potion-making guide and a herbary to start.

“This was all planned and scheduled, by beings who have a lot of power. They saw what was coming, and asked themselves what could they do to save a population of over seven billion? They did it, by changing all of us into forms that can handle the magic, and arranging for us to come back, a few at first, taking ten thousand years before all is said and done. I, for one, am quite glad to be what I am, instead of the alternative. How about you?”

“We’ll always miss what we once had, but there’s no going back, so we had best do what we can with what we have, right?” Stella said, to her group’s nodding approval, those that heard her.

“Good attitude, Stella. Now, let’s get down to brass tacks here. First off, none of us from the Deliverance knows anything about Memphis, so we’ll need your help and the help of your crew to source what we need to start. You want wagons? Where can we get the parts?” Fred asked. “Plus, the sooner we get the paper, ink and binders, the sooner you’ll get books to refer to.”

Stella finished chewing on a piece of fish before answering Fred. “Okay, here’s my plan. Fred, I will give you two of my earth ponies. Take the wagon and get what you need to build two more. A unicorn and earth pony team will do some more scavenging for basic supplies. The three unicorns and remaining earth pony will check out the houses south of Graceland.

“The pegasi are going to be taking flight lessons from Frack until we can get off the ground and back again with some degree of competency. Once that is done, and we can fly on our own, then I’ll split us up to do some searching ourselves.”

“Why could you not learn to fly from Joaquin?” Frack asked.

“We tried, but we could not achieve flight when he showed us. You, being a pegasus like the three of us, can show us how to feel what it is like to fly. He, being a parrot, works on different principles. We don’t transform our arms to wings like he can,” Stella explained.

“Good point,” Frack said. “I didn’t think of that. If you can’t at least get up and down safely by lunch, I’ll give up Vanilla Cokes.” After a short pause, he added, “For a day.”

“Lunch to lunch, bro. I’ll hold you to that!” Frick interjected with a laugh.

“What about Joaquin and I?” Fran asked.

“Joaquin knows where to get paper and ink. I request you head back to your boat and get ready to start printing. He will meet you there, and please get the initial books printed up. In time, we’ll make our own computer system and make copies on our own,” Stella told her, sounding like a police sergeant facing a rough day. Without coffee and doughnuts.

“I like that idea. Let’s get started, everyone!” Frick semi-ordered, the ponies dispersing to their assigned jobs.

It was a very tired bunch of ponies and others that gathered for dinner. The only one that looked fresh, other than Doctor Moe, was Freida. She had done the cooking for everyone, and made sure they had what they needed. Towards the end of dinner, Stella made her way to the table where the Deliverance crew were. “Okay, I got a grip on what we’ll be doing the rest of the week,” she announced to the group.

“Oh? And that is?” Frick asked.

“We’ve picked out the houses we’re going to renovate and retrofit, so one team will do just that, splicing a generator to a house main and removing unneeded power-draining appliances, replacing lights with low-draw bulbs and such. Another team will take a wagon and go salvaging. I want you on that team, Captain Frick, so we can set up a radio link with the WSU. I at least want the pieces set up by the end of the day tomorrow. One team will set up the fuel purifier and run it, filling a barrel or two with clean gas. I have other ideas as well, but I want time to think of them,” Stella sighed. “This day was rougher than I expected.”

“First day of freedom in however long,” Moe observed. “You’re shedding stress you didn’t know you had. Plus, learning to get off the ground has to have been difficult. It’s not that you have used your wings before. I heard his shouting at you from inside.”

“Frack does have his own way of getting students to fly,” Freida said.

“Yeah, by channeling Gunny,” Stella groaned, flexing her wings gently.

“Hey, if it works, use it, right?” the gold-maned pegasus said with a smile. “Tomorrow, we’ll see if the lessons stuck.” Stella and the other two pegasi let out a synchronized moan, followed by the laughter of everyone in the dining area.

Author's Note

Apologies for this being so short, but I have been extremely fatigued these past weeks, stressing over my condition, both physical and economic. Fortunately, yesterday morning my economics underwent a vast improvement, so that stressor is off. It's the release that's also fatiguing.

I'll be putting out one more chapter in two weeks before skipping a date because I'm going to go on a two-week vacation (almost), to visit a friend and later my other sister. 26 Jul- 6 Aug. I do need to celebrate my one-year anniversary of coming out of a coma on the 4th. Now that I can, I think I will.

Let us hope the time away from SLC will do me some good. When I come back, it will be apartment-hunting time. Oh joy, oh bliss...

Chapter 15- Vicksburg, departing.

The Deliverance, its crew and guests, intended to stay in Vicksburg for ten days, fueling, scavenging, repairing, rebuilding, rearming and most of all, learning. Every evening after chores, the crew gathered in the saloon with Caleb and Landry, exchanging information in both directions. Caleb and Landry told of what they found on their way north from Key West to Baton Rouge, especially on how to deal with Marie and her minions. Frick, Frack and the rest told of what they had found coming south, while Chopin told about her colony of breezies in Kansas City.

“We only met Marie once,” Landry told the crew the second night together. “You can just feel the aura around her, an aura of sheer power that could crush you like a bug under her hoof. She laid down her rules, which amounts to don’t bother her or her underlings while she does her work making her old home into something that fits her dreams.”

“We, being residents of Shexnayder since we were born, were allowed to go back home and do the best we could with what we could find,” Caleb added. “She did say she did not want any strangers poking around where she claimed to be hers, or else she would deal with them her way.”

“She could turn you into a zombie, following her will or that of one of her underlings, doing useful work in exchange for the crime of being on her lands without permission,” Landry said.

“Her minions have a charm they wear that will allow him or her to control a certain amount of zombies, anywhere from two to twenty. Above that, the top ponies direct the lieutenants and captains, who handle their crews.

“The one you have to worry about is Captain Hardegan, down at Old River. If you can convince him that you plan on going to the Gulf via the new course, and swear not to disturb anything on the east bank of the Atchafalaya, you should be able to pass. Don’t go left, the Mississippi from there south is one big stagnant bayou,” Caleb cautioned. “He’s a pony with a lot of personal honor. We liked him.”

“You can receive on that radio of yours, but not transmit, right?” Frick asked.

“Correct. It’s just a receiver, but it is very good. We have had little trouble receiving the WSU’s broadcasts. We just have to remember to charge the damn thing during the day,” Landry groused some, sending a glare Caleb’s way.

“That’s your job, to remind me, Landry. I don’t remember everything all the time,” Caleb said, looking back at the blue breezie with a small smile.

Landry lost his glare. “That’s true. You’re doing much better since Havana. I have to be more forgiving.”

“You’re doing a good job, Landry. Nothing will keep us apart.”

The conversation with Captain Pradeek and the WSU was, to put it mildly, interesting. The Captain did NOT hit the roof, but it was a near thing. He insisted on getting confirmation that the Lower Mississippi was closed, which Landry and Caleb were more than willing to affirm.

“Just how can we negotiate shipping and trade rights if this Marie is essentially blocking access to the interior of the United States?” Dilip said in a not-too-happy voice.

“Right now, Captain, I have no mortal idea,” Frick said honestly. “We have been advised that we will have to go past a guard captain of hers, and I can try to see if a message can be relayed to Marie regarding trade possibilities. If we hear anything that will change matters, we will call your Duty Officer and leave word there.”

“You do that, Captain Frick. I will inform Sandra that no word of this Marie is to be transmitted without my approval. Once we have some sort of agreement, only then will I let word of her go through the WSU. She wants her privacy, I will see that she gets it until she decides otherwise,” Dilip said sternly, his sentiments echoed by the others in the room, his exec, the captain of the Fugro Symphony, and his exec.

“Captain, I am sure such sentiments can only go in your favor,” Landry said into the microphone of the satphone on the saloon table.

“We can but hope, Mister Landry. Captain Frick, keep us posted. Plans will need revising, depending on the information you can provide us,” Dilip said in the manner of a captain giving an order to a subordinate.

“Understood, Captain Pradeek. We will do so. Deliverance out,” Frick said before hanging up.

Fred was the first one to speak after. “That man has a lot on his mind. Let us not add to his load of worry any more than we have to,” he said solemnly.

“Up to us not to put a hoof wrong, Fred,” Frick replied.

“All we can do is the best we can do, and the best we can do is all we will do,” Fran added.

“Nobody can say you’re dumb, Fran,” Frack said before sipping from his Vanilla Coke can.

One thing Frick made sure to do was improve the gun mountings on the fly bridge, making a better trigger-operating mechanism, enhancing the swivel and pitch mounts, and most importantly making sure they had enough ammunition, both loose and in clips, to hold off a horde of cragadiles, a flock of manticores, and the occasional swamp critter that would make Fran and Freida run to the reference books to find.

The last night before setting out, or so Frick planned, everyone gathered in the saloon for a special meal Fran cooked for everyone, a special vegan and non-vegan taco dinner, Landry and Chopin dropped a bombshell on everyone.

“Caleb and I have decided not to return to Shexnayder. Instead, we’ll make our way to Kansas City, to join the colony there,” Landry announced.

“I will be going with them, to show them the way there,” Chopin added.

“I thought you liked it with us, Chopin!” Frack said, startled by the words.

“I do, truly. I also miss the rest of the group. Being with you is good, but being with other breezies is best. Landry had not met another breezie until he met me, and he should be with the others,” Chopin explained.

“Did you know about this, Fran?” Frick asked.

“Yes. We talked about it starting a few nights ago. She feels Landry’s need to be around other breezies beats her desire to remain with us, exploring new places. It’s her decision, she knows the way, and they should make it to Kansas City before the snow flies again,” Fran explained. “Plus, there are known colonies they can stop at and prepare for the next leap.”

“We’re certain we can make it,” Caleb put in. “We made it up here, right?”

“That you did, Caleb,” Fred told his fellow earth pony. “You have the endurance, you have the skills, and you have a guide. Is there anything you would want to take with you?”

“Yes. Some lighters, prepared food, some quarts of whole grains, and if you can, Missus Freida, reinforce our shelter half with a layer of canvas? Plus, do you have some waterproofs?” Landry asked.

“I can do better than that, Landry. I can make you a better shelter out of some stuff from one of the local stores, better saddlebags, and a hat big enough to shelter the breezies while you head to Memphis,” Freida told them. “Think we can delay setting off another day, Frick?”

“We can. Not a problem. Friends look out for friends. We’ll set you up right, Landry, Caleb and Chopin. We will miss you,” Frick told them.

“And we, you, Frick.” Chopin squeaked.

The crew did that, spending the day going through Vicksburg, despite the drizzly weather, picking up what was needed to outfit the departing ponies properly. What they wound up doing is they built a small cart that Caleb could pull, enabling them to bring more supplies than could be carried on ponyback. They made it so Caleb could put props down and fold the wheels up so he could climb into the cart, which had a cover on it, so they could sleep dry(ish) in case of rain. Just a little finishing work was needed the next morning to finish. It was not the prettiest little thing, but it was stout, sturdy, varnished, and equipped with what supplies they wanted for their trip to Memphis. One thing special was a set of waterproofed maps.

“These will get you to Memphis. Once there, the ponies will give you a set to get you to Saint Louis, and then from there to Kansas City,” Frick told them before they set off.

“Looks good to me,” Caleb said before having Landry and Chopin put the maps away securely in the cart. “Basically, follow US sixty-one north and it will take us where we want to go, right?”

“Pretty much. Check the maps every morning, so you will know where the turns are. The road does not beeline there, it does jig some, and I don’t know what the street signs will be like,” Frick advised.

“I can do that,” Caleb said with certainty. “Please watch me while I harness up and down for practice.”

“Of course,” Frick told the young earth pony. “Want Fred here?” At Caleb’s nod, Frick went and found Fred, who came over to supervise Caleb getting into and out of the harness, sealing the Velcro straps, moving a few paces, turning, backing, then parking and removing the harness.

“How did I do?” Caleb asked, as Landry and Chopin settled on his head.

“You did well, son,” Fred said gently. “You’ll do fine on your way, all of you. May the Lord watch over you on your travels.”

“Which one?” Landry quipped.

“Whichever one that takes an interest, Landry. May many do so. Give our regards to Smoking Horn when you get to Kansas City, as well as little Wakinya. You do have your phone set up, right?” Fred asked.

“Set up, in place, and connected to the solar chargers on the roof. We’ll call when we have something to report. We also have contact numbers, so you’ll be hearing from us,” Landry said with confidence.

“Only one thing left to do, then,” Fred said, looking around to find the Deliverance crew on the deck, doing their version of ‘manning the rails’. “Wish you success on your journey, as well as a thermos of fresh coffee, made to your taste.”

“We’ll miss you all,” Freida said with a sniffle. “You’ve become good friends. Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

“It is,” Fran said, walking up to Chopin. “Gonna miss you, you pink bow!’

Chopin settled between Fran’s ears, like she had done before. “I’ll miss my dark fur blanket, but I have enough of a backup. Keep in touch, and don’t do anything stupid. Deal?” Chopin squealed fiercely

“No waking up Ursa Majors, yes, boss!” Fran laughed.

After the cart disappeared behind a building, the crew made ready to depart. After one final round of checks, Frick, from the fly bridge, started the big Cummins engines. After warmup, he signaled for the lines to be untied and stowed, then, when all was secure, pulled out.

Once the boat was heading downstream at a good clip, Fred came up to consult with the Captain. “What do you have in mind, Frick?” he asked.

Holding a stylus in his glow, Frick tapped on one of the computer screens, which had a map on it. “The plan is to stop at Natchez tonight and spend a day, ensuring we are absolutely topped off with supplies, even thinking of putting a barrel of fuel on the after deck and using that until it is dry, because while we MAY be able to stop in Morgan City or someplace else along the river, I’m not counting on another stop until we’re on the Gulf. Then, we can decide on either going east and trying for Mobile, or go west and hit Port Arthur for fuel before going east. All depends on fuel state and other factors when we reach the Gulf,” he said, more thinking out loud than anything else.

“I like that idea, Frick. What with the river taking a new course, we can’t rely on anything being anywhere it used to be, right?” Fred observed.

“Correct. We’re flying blind down this way, and we’ll just have to bumble along in the dark until we find light. But first, we have to get past this Captain Hardegan at the junction. We have to get past him first. After that, we’ll have to presume no resupply until we get past Marie’s territory. Pray for us, okay, Fred?” Frick asked.

“I think I can do that, Frick.”

“Captain’s log, stardate 1604.14 1600 hours. Chief Engineer Frack recording.

“We have arrived at Natchez, and are tied up at a granary on the west bank of the river. The rest of the crew are out scouting for food and fuel here while I got the duty. Frick spoke to me about putting a spare fuel barrel on the after deck. I suggested two barrels, mounted on the swim deck. After pulling up the plans, he agreed to two barrels on the swim deck, mounted firmly to the rail. Why settle for one when you can get two, right?

“Frick is out with the rest, looking for barrels and tubing. We found diesel here at the granary, but we have to hunt up some decent barrels. Two forty-gallon barrels will increase our fuel tankage by almost twenty percent, something that may come in very useful once we hit the Gulf.”

The narration was interrupted by a growl, a thumping noise, a whirr and gunfire before Frack spoke again. “Just another cragadile. They’re smart enough to leave us be, once we put the scare into them. A few bullets by their heads will do the trick. Just got to change the clip before I head downstairs. One chore after another. Frack out.” He saved and sent the file off before changing the clip in the rifle, and leaving a note to have someone refill the clip. Frack and Fred could not quite come up with the dexterity to load the clips on their own. Not yet, at least.

Author's Note

Out on Thursday, like I said I would. Constant fatigue is a real pain in the backside, but I'm getting through it. At least now I know what I've got in mind for the next two to three chapters.

Watching Ida coverage on The Weather Channel. Seems a boat like the Deliverance would be useful in more than one place. That, or a team of hippogriffs!

Until next chapter...

Chapter 16- When you come to the fork in the river, take it!

“Ship’s log, stardate 1604.16, 0900 hours, Tech Officer Fran recording.

“We pulled out of Natchez an hour ago, heading downriver to our hopefully well-received meeting with the pony in charge of Marie Laveau’s guard detachment here on the river, where it forks, the Mississippi now flowing down the Atchafalaya drainage, like it has wanted to do for decades now. Of course, that means the current flow past Baton Rouge and New Orleans is damn near nonexistent, which for all I have learned would make those cities uninhabitable.

“With the junction being about thirty miles south of Natchez, give or take the odd furlong or two, we should be there by noon. If we don’t send a log recording for a few days, it’s because we’ll be in negotiations, and we are NOT going to transmit while we are talking. It can and will wait.

“We spent two days in Natchez, getting everything rigged up for extended cruising. The barrels are on the swim deck, firmly strapped down, with hoses and check valves going into the fuel tank. The extra eighty-plus gallons should be of help. Plus, we raided a granary and a Wal-Mart. We have the equivalent of another barrel of mixed grains stashed here and there throughout the boat. We spent half the night grinding grain to flour for better storage. We also refilled the four bins forward with wheat, corn, oats and barley. We’ll be good for a while, I hope. I also hope Freida bags another deer soon. Not much left of the last one, and as much as I like beef, no way are we going to take down a cow or bull, because there’s just too much waste if we tried. Deer are smaller, plentiful, and we don’t waste much. Our deerskins may not be of the best quality, but we learn more every time we try to tan the hides. Haven’t seen a deer since Vicksburg.

“Back to paying attention to my piloting. At least it’s not raining. Frack says no rain for a while. I believe him. End log entry.” Quickly, Fran saved the log file and sent it off to Rotterdam before turning up the radio, on the WSU station, of course. Five minutes later, she heard Sandra, or DJ WSU as she was known as, say that she has a new email from the Deliverance, and she would have an edited version included in the daily review of those who had checked in with her later on that evening. “She never wastes time announcing new communications from anywhere,” Fran said to herself as the DJ put on some music, which while it had a good sound, was in German, and that was one language Fran barely understood more than a few words of.

As noon approached, Frick and Fred joined Fran on the fly bridge, Freida was up scouting by air, while Frack was in the galley, preparing a large pot of onion soup, some rolls, and home-made croutons. Frack assured everyone he could handle such a meal without burning anything. Freida believed him enough to let him try. Frack also knew that if he botched it, Freida would give his entire supply of Vanilla Coke a float test in the river. Frack knew she was serious.

“From here south, I would have to say the maps would be pretty much useless,” Fred observed from where he sat, looking out over the river. The map displays showed the river making a curve more southeasterly, but the river itself was heading southwest. A fork did lead southeast, but that water looked stagnant. The current was definitely favoring the southwest.

“The Mighty Mississippi is carving its own course, despite what Man had done to it to keep it on its old course,” Frick said as he looked from the river to his tablet and back again. “What I’m wondering is, where’s this outpost?”

“Can’t be too far off,” Fred said. “Landry and Caleb came up the old river, and they found the outpost. Thing is, I can’t find anything that would show a campground.”

Frick picked up his radio. “Main Mission to Eagle Three. See the camp site?” he asked.

“Eagle Three to Main Mission. No, I don’t see anything but swampland and water. Think we could have missed it?” Freida answered.

“Anything’s possible, Eagle Three. Go past the fork a ways, and if you don’t see anything, turn back. I’m going to stop the boat right here and wait for more observations,” Frick told her.

“Sounds like a plan, Commander Koenig. I’ll keep scouting. Eagle Three out.”

“Main Mission clear,” Frick said before putting the radio down. “Fran, come to all stop, then drop the anchor. We need to recheck matters before we go any farther.”

“Right, Captain. Coming to all stop,” Fran said as she brought the throttles to zero, then gently into reverse to bring Deliverance almost to a halt. Then she released the anchor, which dropped straight to the bottom and embedded itself into the mud. Gently, the boat pivoted on the anchor chain to point upstream. She put the engines into idle mode then. “All stop, anchor deployed, Frick.”

“Very well, Fran. Nicely done,” Frick complimented his shipmate. Fran has always been better at boat handling than anyone else, having used boats of this size and style since she was a child. It handled differently from the pontoon boats like the Juliana. Even after over four months sailing downriver, Frick has to say she was the best at it.

Frick picked up the larger of the ship’s two sets of binoculars and started scanning the east bank. “They have to be around here somewhere. Where can they be?” he muttered as he looked.

“Captain,” Fred said sharply, “Look at the bows.” Frick did, as well as Fran. Hanging on to the anchor chain is a light red hippogriff with a yellow mane.

“Howdy, y’all!” a voice called up to them. “Y’all missed the turn ‘bout a quarter-mile back. Follow me an’ ah’ll bring yuh to Captain Hardegan, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Frick called down. “Once you’re clear, we’ll weigh anchor and follow!” The red hippogriff flipped backwards off the anchor chain and into the water. Once the yellow mane was well clear, Fran raised the anchor and followed the hippogriff upstream.

“Main Mission to Eagle Three. Turn around, we missed it,” Frick called to Freida over the radio.

“Eagle Three to Main Mission. How do you know that?” Freida asked.

“They sent out a guide, Freida. Just follow us.”

“Eagle Three copies.”

It was only a short way upriver before the hippogriff led the boat into a small creek inlet, but still deep enough to pose no problem. Going up the creek about a hundred yards, it took a sharp hook to the left, where a house sat, one that looked old, but not antebellum. Behind it, higher on a grassy slope, are two long, low row houses. A short pier led to the house on the water. The hippogriff clambered up to the pier, shifting to land form. “Moor here on the one side, please!” the hippogriff called up to the fly bridge. “Send me your lines!” On the other side of the pier was tied a motorboat, with an outboard motor in the water.

Fran extended the two starboard side winches and Frick used his aura to send first one line, then the other to the waiting hippogriff, who tied the lines to cleats on the pier. “Ah’ll go get the Captain!” the hippogriff called out before heading into the house.

“Fran, start the generator and secure the mains. Looks like we’ll be here a while. I’ll relieve you after lunch. Until then, stay up here. Switch control below only when I say to. Got it?” Frick ordered.

“Got it, Captain! I’ll wait here for a while. Call me when it’s okay to come down,” Fran replied before smiling. “I’ll have some venison jerky while I wait.”

“Good idea. We don’t know how the residents here would react to it,” Frick said before he and Fred headed to the aft deck.

They were met by the red and yellow hippogriff, who was leading a rather large unicorn, white in color with golden mane, tail, hooves and horn, a gold a bit brighter than Frack’s. “Howdy, folks! I’m Captain Hardegan, the sheriff here, as well as the North Point commander. With me is Lieutenant Parker, River patrol. Did those two travellers find you?” he asked, in a not unpleasant voice. Around both his neck and Parker’s were shiny red gems attached to a fine gold chain. Hardegan’s gem was easily twice the size of Parker’s.

“That they did, in Natchez. They’re heading north now, to another colony we found in Memphis. We built them a little cart so they would not have to drag everything, plus have some shelter from the wet,” Frick said. “Would you like to come aboard and join us for lunch?”

Hardegan and Parker looked at each other for a second, then both eagerly nodded. “Think y’all have enough for our sergeants? One’s up in the Z house, while the other is at the field with a squad,” Parker asked.

“I think we have enough onion soup mix for them,” Frick replied. “We also have real coffee. Fake milk, but real coffee. Interested?”

Hardegan’s face lit up with a bright smile. “For real coffee, I’ll put up with fake milk. All we got around here is chicory or tea. We don’t get a whole lot of supplies from New Orleans,” he explained.

“What about your squads? I don’t think we’ll have enough for them,” Frack said from the galley.

“They’re just Z’s. They forage, which is why we settled here. Lots of good forage, plus what they can glean from the fields,” Parker explained.

“Just Z’s?” Fred asked, his face going into a frown that would (and has) cowed altar boys and mad dogs.

“Zombies,” Hardegan told the crew. “We have thirty-two up here, ten hippogriffs, ten unicorns, eight earth ponies, a griffon and three pegasi. My job is to keep an eye open up here for anyone coming downriver and let them know what to expect heading south. The zombies help.”

Hardegan was about to say more, but Freida chose that time to land on the pier with an audible thud. “You all right out there, Maw?” Fred called out, opening the back saloon door.

“I will be, Paw,” Freida answered back. “Got a claw hung up in the wood. The dock can use some maintenance!”

“If I may ask, just who is everybody here?” Hardegan asked as Freida freed her claw from the wood.

“Okay, I’m Frick, the commander of the Deliverance. The blue pony is my first officer Fred, the red is Chief Engineer Frack, just landing is Medical officer Freida and on duty is Tech Officer Fran. She’ll remain up on the fly bridge. She likes her venison,” Frick concluded with a grimace.

“Smart of her. That coffee smells wonderful!” Hardegan said, a smile on his face, showing even perfect teeth.

“Coffee you shall have!” Frick said with a flourish as he used his glow to move first a tray containing the cream pitcher and sugar packets, followed by two mugs, and last a pot of coffee. “You know how you like it, I don’t.”

Hardegan and Parker wasted no time pouring and mixing their coffee to their desired parameters before sipping. Their smiles were identical as they savored the real coffee flavor. “Think we can con the Colonel into sending up some real coffee?” Parker asked.

“Don’t hold your breath. Colonel Forest doesn’t really like us. Otherwise, we would not be up here in the northern reaches,” Hardegan grumbled as Frack served the french onion soup, rolls and croutons, with assorted river greens they had picked earlier that day. Hardegan’s grumble changed into a smile. “Thank you, Mister Frack!”

“You’re welcome, Captain,” Frack said as he grabbed the second bowl and brought it to Parker, along with the side dishes. He then served Frick and Fred. Frack served himself in the galley, with the board over the sink serving as a tabletop.

After Fred said grace over the meal, followed by an explanation why, Frick and Fred got down to the first order of business. “We have been told the Mississippi River now flows down the Atchafalaya instead of the mapped course, right?” Frick asked.

“That it does. Marie induced the diversion dam to give up and crumble away not long after she woke up. She does not want traffic going past her home. Her people she looks out for. She does have a long-range plan, but I’m not senior enough to be in on that,” Hardegan explained after sampling the soup.

“We are acting as representatives of an organization that wants to restart trade around the world. One big question we have is what would Marie think of having some sort of river traffic going upstream to Memphis, Saint Louis, and Kansas City for now?” Fred asked. “We know there are ponies in each city, and river traffic is the cheapest and safest way, other than flying, and no pegasus, griffin or hippogriff can carry that much.”

Hardegan frowned as he thought, a hoof reaching up to touch the red gem around his neck. “I can put in a request to speak to her about it. Don’t know how long it will take for her to reply. Can I have some more details?” he asked.

For the next half-hour, Frick, Frack and Fred told the guardians about what they knew about the WSU and their plans to get commerce going again. Hardegan and Parker both pulled out pads and pencils, writing down a lot of what they were told. The guards revealed what they learned from Landry and Caleb about the WSU, and finding the stories matching, gave the Deliverance crew permission to remain.

“Ah’m going to have to call the Major and fill her in, then she’ll consult with Colonel Forest, who will take the matter to Marie for resolution. We should hear from them within a couple days, at most,” Hardegan told the crew.

“How can you call your superiors?” Freida asked.

Both Hardegan and Parker tapped their gems. “These,” Hardegan said. “They allow us to order the Z’s around, and to call up and down the chain of command. Two links up, unlimited down.”

“I can call the Captain, I can call the Major, but I can’t reach the Colonel,” Parker told them. “The Colonel can call me, if he chooses to. Marie can look in on everypony.”

“If I may ask, what about the zombies? How does that work?” Frick asked.

Hardegan thought for a few seconds before answering. “The Z’s are regular ponies, like you and me, who have been sentenced to labor for their crimes. They have no independent will, other than surviving. It’s up to us,” he indicated Parker and himself, “and the Sergeants to give them direction. They can follow fairly detailed orders, but they have no will. No chance of a revolt.”

“It looks good on us to take good care of our Z’s, because the supply is limited,” Parker added. “They forage well, but we sure could use some good grains.”

“There’s a granary up by Natchez. We restocked there, and there’s lots more good grain waiting. Ever think of just going there?” Fred asked.

Both Hardegan and Parker stared into their soup bowls. “We can’t do that, Parson Fred,” Hardegan said. “Our orders are to remain here, at the northern edge of Marie’s territory, and watch for those coming downstream. We’re not permitted to go upstream much past here.”

“What if we go back up there and bring back as much grain as we can carry back? Good variety up there, it’s just there’s not much room aboard for more than a couple of barrels,” Frick suggested.

“Think you can tow a raft behind you, to load barrels on?” Hardegan asked.

“You have one?” Fred asked in return.

“Not yet, but we can by morning. Won’t be pretty, but it should last one trip up and back. Should be able to bring several barrels back with you. Do that, and I’ll put in a good word with Colonel Forest about you. It will help our Z’s perform better,” Hardegan said to everypony.

Frick looked around at his crew. “What do you all say? Yes or no?” he asked.

Freida was the first to speak up. “Let’s do this. Will build goodwill.”

“We can fill up on fuel as well up there. Just replacing what we used to get here. Now that we know what to expect, the trip will be faster,” Frack observed.

“It is always good to help one’s fellow ponies, Frick. It cannot hurt our case with Marie,” Fred advised.

“Okay, then. You have the raft ready to go by tomorrow morning, and we will undertake a trip to Natchez and back for grain for your crew. We set out early, and we should be back by sunset. Agreed, Captain Hardegan?” Frick said to the white unicorn.

Hardegan stood up, as did Parker. “Agreed. Let me get started on constructing the raft, and you have no objection if I have the sergeants come by for soup and coffee?” Hardegan asked.

“No objection. Send them down, we’ll feed them like we did you,” Freida said. Frick didn’t object, seeing as Freida was in charge of the galley and provisions.

“Then, let’s get to work. I have to get a report ready for the Major as well. Will keep me busy till dinnertime. In our continued good will and best interests, I will NOT ask you to dinner. Field rations are not the best,” Hardegan said with a sheepish smile. Parker just looked away.

“Let’s worry about that at dinnertime, Captain,” Frick assured the guard captain. “Let’s get our chores done, shall we?”

“Good idea. Thank you, everypony. Your kindness will not be forgotten,” Hardesty said as his gold glow opened the saloon door.

After Hardegan and Parker had left, and Fran came down from the fly bridge, the Deliverance crew sat down to chat. “Fran, you were listening, right?” Frick asked.

“Every word. I feel that everything they said is true, but they did not say everything,” Fran said before sipping some of the soup.

“I agree, Frick,” Fred said. “They are holding back, but not due to any malice. They have no orders on the subject. They seem honest to me, but limited on what they think they can say until they get orders.”

“We’re holding out, too. I’m sure they saw the guns up on the bridge, but they said nothing, as did we. For all we know, they don’t have any weapons other than their pony talents,” Frick observed.

“They have one we don’t have, bro,” Frack spoke up. “The Zombies. What’s to stop them from getting orders to move in and don’t stop until you’re dead, no matter what? That’ll suck up some firepower, not to mention making any victory costly.”

“Kamikazes,” Frieda said. “From what I gather, the zombies are well-cared for tools. Be good to them, but if you got to break them, go ahead.”

“One thing I wonder is, what is Marie’s endgame?” Frick asked. “What can she hope to gain by making zombies, diverting the Mississippi, and taking control of this area?”

“Only time will tell, in his own good time,” Fred said, in preacher tones. “Will we be up to the challenge?”

For dinner that night, Frack, Freida and Fran did up a nice vegetable stew, with sides of fish for the pegasi and hippogriffs. All four of the aware troops showed up on the dock, including the sergeants, Kramer, a hippogriff mare, and Longbaugh, an earth pony stallion.

“I’ve sent a report to Major Cargill about you, and am awaiting orders. The raft will be ready by morning, and approval has been granted for you to fetch some grains for us,” Captain Hardegan told the crew. “As she said, if you do that for her, it won’t come out of her budget.”

“My, she sounds like a wonderful officer…” Frack said snidely.

All four of the hosting ponies looked at Frack with the same expressionless expression. “She is!” they chorused in expressionless voices. Lieutenant Parker then added, “She’ll do anything to replace Colonel Forest.”

Fran spoke up, holding up a piece of fried fish on a fork. “My uncle told me that he knew some officers like that when he was in the Army. Real Neidermeyers. They have as much honor as your typical vampire bat,” she said before eating.

“Ah try to avoid that, Miss Fran,” Captain Hardegan said. “I believe in being honorable. That’s why I’m up here.”

“How is that, Captain?” Freida asked.

“Major Cargill and I got in a real pissing contest about something she did which I thought was totally without honor, Miz Freida,” Hardegan said bitterly. “She had my cousin zombified and sent down to the Delta area for apparently swiping some of her stuff from her quarters. I knew damn well she didn’t, because she was with me, but her word beat mine. That’s why I got sent up here to North Point back in December. My association with my cousin kept me from taking her spot, and ah’ve been a sheriff up here in Rapides Parish now since the Nineties!”

“All good things come to those who wait, Captain,” Fred said in an attempt to comfort the unicorn.

“Ah know that, Parson, but it can be frustratin’ when ah use one playbook and mah bosses use another!” Hardegan complained.

“We’re with you, Captain. You know that,” Longbaugh said quietly. “You lead, we do.”

“Ah know that, Butch. It’s a help that mah company is a good one.”

“When can we expect a reply from your superiors, Captain?” Fred asked.

“I’d say by the time you get back tomorrow from the grain run. Cargill is not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’s thorough. She’ll go over my report several times and consult with her advisors before sending it to Colonel Forest and sending me a reply.”

“And here I am hoping that some of the bad parts of the old world had passed on, like bureaucratic buck-passing and ass-covering,” Frick lamented.

“Got news for you, sir. That’s alive and well in Marie’s lands.”

The next morning, the raft was delivered to the boat and tested by having several zombies get into it. Proving it could handle the weight, the zombies were told to get off, the raft secured to the Deliverance, and they headed upstream, back to Natchez. There, they topped off with grains and fuel, putting six barrels in the raft and two on the after deck, two each of wheat, corn, oats and barley. The trip back to the outpost went faster than the previous day. This time, Fred was at the wheel while Frack was flying overwatch.

“Cornhusker Four to Cornhusker One!” Frack called over the radio as they neared the outpost.

“Cornhusker One to Cornhusker Four. What’s going on?” Frick asked his brother.

“There’s another boat tied up at the dock, a fairly large one! There’s also some more ponies between the house and the pier, all wearing black sashes! I think we have a response to our queries from yesterday!”

“Remain airborne until we moor and after. I’ll signal you when to come down. Keep your ears on!” Frick commanded. “Two purple flashes means plan M!”

“Cornhusker Four copies orders, One.” Frack replied, totally serious for once.

“Fred, pull alongside the pier but do not shut off the mains. Switch gun control to the bridge, I’ll run them from there. Monitor Channel One from here, I’ll do so above,” Frick said with no hesitation in his voice.

“You got a bad feeling about this, Frick?” Fred asked, not diverting his attention from the river.
“You bet your sweet bippy I do. Something’s not right here, and I would much rather be damned for being too careful than being careless,” Frick replied, his horn sparking violet.

“Give them a chance to put their hooves in their mouths before you blast away, Frick,” Fred cautioned gently.

“Right. I’ll be on the bridge.” Frick went from the pilothouse to the galley. “Freida, grab the axe and keep it ready. Something may be going on, and we may have to cut the raft lines and run like hell,” he told the griffin.

“Okay, Frick. I’ll be ready.”

Frick went to the bridge, taking the megaphone from its case and having it ready as Fred turned the boat up the inlet to the house. “Here’s hoping,” he muttered as he sat at the controls, activating the guns and checking their operation.

Fred pulled the boat alongside the pier, careful of the raft they were towing. Captain Hardegan walked up to the boat, along with a pink and white pegasus with a black mane and black eyes, wearing a black sash with three white stripes on it across her chest. “Captain Frick, I would like to introduce Major Cargill. She has a message for you!” he called up, not sounding happy.

“Captain Frick, in the name of Queen Marie, I thank you for delivering supplies to the North Point outpost. Now, you and your crew are hereby ordered to disembark and submit to interrogation and inspection,” Major Cargill called up in a hoarse, but clear voice.

“Ordered? What for and on whose command?” Frick called down from the bridge.

“Mine. Your boat will be a fine addition to my detachment!” she called back.

Shock was evident on Captain Hardegan’s face. “That’s not what Colonel Forest said!”

“He’s not here. I am. I want it, and I’m going to take it!” Cargill said venomously as five zombies moved up to near the pair on the pier, Cargill’s gem glowing bright. “By the time Forest finds out, it will be all over!”

Not seeing any weapons, Frick said aloud, “Frack, Plan M Two! Frieda, chop! Fred, swap controls!” before taking command from the bridge and moving the Deliverance away from the pier enough to prevent anyone just leaping aboard. The starboard side rifle moved on its motorized mount to point at the Major, Fred controlling the aim.

Author's Note

Good news: Landry and Caleb's report was accurate.
Bad news: While the Captain has honor, his superior does not.
Good news: Frick got suspicious, and was ready.
Bad news: The Major has experience and skill.

What's going to happen next? Well, just come on back in a week or two and find out!

Chapter 17: Down in Louisiana, where the black trees grow....

The five zombies, two unicorns, two earth ponies and one pegasus, moved onto the pier under Major Cargill’s mental direction, her control gem shining in the afternoon sunlight. Captain Hardegan moved back off the pier onto the shore, his own control gem glowing bright. “Captain Frick, are you going to surrender your ship, or will I have to take it by force?” Major Cargill called up.

“You can try, Major. I doubt your capability to succeed!” Frick called down as the starboard side rifle fired once, sending the bullet between and over Cargill’s ears and grazing her tail before embedding in the wood of the pier. At the same time, Frieda cut the three ropes keeping the raft held fast to the port side of Deliverance.

Cargill’s ears twitched, as did her wings. “Did you just dare shoot at me?” she shrieked.

“Are you daring to take my ship?” Frick called down. “If so, to tell the truth, no, I didn’t fire at you.” He paused a few seconds as the rifle adjusted its aim. “My first mate did. He’s operating the guns, I’m running the boat.”

“Well, time for your little putt-putt to run into some trouble!” Cargill snarled as her gem flared again. The water at the stern of the boat roiled some as two hippogriff zombies tried to climb the ladder, but were quickly pulled back under. “What the fuck?”

“Major, y’all have gone just a little too far now,” Captain Hardegan said in a firm voice. “The only way you are taking possession of that there boat is over my dead body!”

Cargill spun on her hooves to face Hardegan, her face showing her rage. “Consider it done, Captain!” she spat. The two unicorns on the pier turned to face Hardegan, their horns lighting up.

The forward hatch of the Deliverance flipped open as Fran stood up, shotgun at the ready. She fired two stun bags at the unicorns, hitting each near their left ears, causing them to lose concentration, their horns going out. They shook their heads and looked back at Hardegan. Their horn glows this time were not as bright, and they flickered some. Fran kept her aim up.

“I would call off your troops, Major,” Frick calmly said from the bridge. “Unless you want to lose them. The first rounds are stunning shots. Want to wager the next ones are not?”

“You wouldn’t dare injure any of my ponies! Queen Marie would not stand for such a thing!” the Major yelled. “She’ll kill you, if you’re lucky!”

“Ah wouldn’t be so shuah of that, Major,” Captain Hardegan said quietly. “Ah suggest y’all check your mail. Someone’s tryin’ to get through to you.”

“Oh? Who would dare do such a thing? I’m in command here, and I’m taking that ship!” the Major shouted, clearly losing her composure. These foreign ponies were not playing the game right! They were not submitting like they should!

A loud BOOM came from in front of the house. A cloud of black smoke rose, getting everypony’s attention. When the smoke cleared, two ponies stood there, one a forest-green pegasus stallion wearing a black sash with four white stripes and a large white diamond on a silver chain, and a black unicorn mare with white hooves, horn, mane and tail, the latter two of which were neatly plaited into an ornate braid, who did not wear a gem. She didn’t need one. Her cutie mark was of a white rag doll, easily seen against her black fur, with three pins neatly skewering it. Also, she did NOT look happy. Quite the opposite, really. Rage lurked just beneath the surface. The aura of menace, of power, of ‘somebody woke the sleeping dragon and it’s after YOUR ass’, radiated off of her like dark sunlight, causing all the visiting ponies who had NOT met her before to shiver some at the sight and wish they were somewhere else, like Timbuktu under a false name.

“Major, just what do you think you are doing?” the black unicorn said in a voice that was at the same time gentle, yet backed by enough power to squish ponies like bugs.

Major Cargill froze in position, her wings slightly flared. “My Queen! What brings you here? I am trying to bring a great prize for you!” she managed to say, panic lurking below the surface of her words, panic itching to be let free, like take off and fly away, very, very FAST.

Marie approached the Major, her horn flickering white and black. “Go on, Cargill. Continue speaking. You planned on taking the boat for yourself, heading back to Baton Rouge and dispose of the Colonel, right?” she said calmly, just looking at the pegasus as she tried to maintain her composure.

“Deliverance, stand down, but retain vigilance. This isn’t over yet,” Frick said quietly. Fran set her shotgun down on the deck, putting it between two of the grain bins so it would not slide. Fred moved the starboard rifle up, so Marie would not be in the line of fire. Freida went to the aft gun locker, removed her hunting rifle, checked its loads, and made ready, waiting behind the saloon corner, watching. Frack circled high overhead, making sure his shadow did NOT overfly the scene below, but his cell phone was in his hooves and he was filming what was going on below him. The raft with the barrels of grains drifted, but the severed lines were taken up by hippogriffs and was moved to shore, Lieutenant Parker leading two Z’s in securing the grain.

“Come on, Cargill. Tell me the truth behind your actions!” Marie snapped out, a white beam coming from her horn and surrounding Cargill’s head. “Speak!”

Cargill literally pissed herself as she stood, fighting the command to speak, shaking. “To move up, step on those below, stab the ones above to take their position for yourself,” she muttered. “Perfect opportunity to supplant Forest and take Northern District command for myself.”

“What are my orders concerning strangers coming downriver?”

“Thorough questioning to determine motives. Evaluate their chances of making it downstream. Take reports and ensure said reports get to headquarters without distortion or interpretation. Advise of river course change and make travelers aware that conditions southwest of here are unknown,” Cargill said slowly.

“Where are the instructions allowing you to take the boat for your own use in a supplanting of your superior?” Marie asked sternly, maintaining the glow over Cargill’s head.

“There are none. That was all on my own, to move up in rank, power and privilege,” Cargill said, as urine dripped down her tail and hind legs.

The white glow shut off, and the gem and chain lifted off Cargill’s neck. A red glow came from Marie’s horn and spread to cover Cargill, who shivered and squeaked as she felt her ego, her will, be forced into a tiny corner of her mind, there to rant and rave uselessly. “Report to your new controller, Z one-five-eight. For even considering killing one of my senior officers, your sentence is to serve as a zombie. For taking actions against ponies who are trying to assist me, through their own free will, your sentence is for the rest of your natural life. Report to the patrol boat and remain until ordered,” Marie declared. Without a word, the pony once known as Cargill turned to walk up the gangplank to the river patrol boat she had arrived on. “Clean yourself off first!”

Marie then turned her attention to the Deliverance. “Captain Frick, request permission for my aide and I to come aboard?” she called up in a much more pleasant voice than before, her horn’s glow going out.

“Permission is granted, Your Majesty. Please allow me to moor before you do so,” Frick called down before activating the ship’s speakers. “All hands, stand down from action stations. Prepare to moor. Weapons tight.”

He then picked up the bullhorn. Aiming up, he called, “Come on down, little bro! Secure from red alert!” Frack did a wing-waggle and started his descent, making sure he put his phone away FIRST.

Frick brought the boat alongside the pier, extending the starboard side line winches. Freida soon had the lines cinched to the cleats, Frick activated the self-tensioning systems, put the engines to idle, shifted control to Fred and hurried down the stairs to welcome Marie aboard.

Frick ran into a small issue as he came down the stairs, that being the two barrels of grain on the after deck and two more in the saloon. Looking to where the raft had been beached, Frick took the two barrels on the aft deck in his purple glow and moved the two barrels to shore, followed by the two in the saloon after opening the door. Once the way was clear, Frick went to the access hatch and bowed. “Your Highness, I offer you the hospitality of the Deliverance. May we do business for mutual gain.”

Marie acknowledged Frick’s presence with a regal nod. “I agree with your sentiments, Captain Frick. My aide and Northern Area commander, Colonel Forest,” she said, indicating the pegasus. “Is that fresh-brewed coffee I smell?”

“Yes, it is, Your Highness. Would you like a mug, and if so, how?” Frick asked, backing into the saloon.

“Black with one sugar, and consider protocol to have been met and recognized, Captain. You are not my subject, but your manners are noted with pleasure,” Marie said with dignity.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Now, before coffee, let us have a place to put the coffee!” Frick used his glow to raise and unfold the saloon table before going to the galley and pouring a mug of coffee the way Marie liked. “Would you like some, Colonel?”

“Plain black, please,” the green pegasus said in a thick Southern accent.

“Coming up!” As Frick poured, he called out, “Fran, please relieve the First Officer so he can be here for discussions. Secure engines and start the generator.”

“Yes, Captain!” came from below as Fran came up the steps and out, going to the pilothouse. Fred heard everything, of course, so he was ready. Once Frick served the coffee, Freida moved to the galley position while Frick sat down across from Marie.

“Welcome, Your Highness and Colonel. If I may ask, how much do you already know about our situation regarding whom we are acting on behalf of?” Frick asked.

The Colonel spoke first. “Ah have Captain Hardegan’s full report, which ah have submitted verbatim to Her Majesty upon receipt last night. She is fully aware of all that was included, suh.”

“May I ask for Captain Hardegan’s presence here? He was present when I first told the story, and he can spot any changes,” Frick asked as Fred came in and sat on the settee at Frick’s left hoof.

“You may ask, and I agree. You are trying to display your sincerity, and to dispel any doubts I may have about your intent. I will summon him,” Marie said in far less regal tones than she had used before. She shut her eyes as her horn flickered briefly. “He will be in as soon as he has the outside situation stable. Should only be a short time.”

“What’s unstable, if I may ask?” Fred spoke.

“Captain Hardegan is making sure the crew of the patrol boat knows to take orders from him, myself, or Colonel Forest, take no actions until ordered to, and remain aboard until told to come out,” Marie said. “Hardegan knows what is best.”

“I understand now,” Fred said as Frack came in the aft saloon door, saw the conference setting, then turned around, shut the door, and went to the pilothouse, where he gave his phone to Fran, asking her to download the video for saving. Fran did that as Hardegan entered the cabin, taking the seat to Frick’s right.

For an hour, the five ponies discussed what all parties involved desired as an optimal outcome. Marie outlined her desires, Frick spoke of his desires for the ship as well as relating what the WSU wanted for access upriver. As the skies darkened, Marie rose from her seat.

“Tomorrow, I will return with detailed charts as to what I claim for my own territory, so your WSU folk would not inadvertently trespass. Access is granted to use the Atchafalaya River to head upstream, with one provision. That is no one may land, anchor or set hoof on the eastern bank of the river until passing North Point. West bank is open for use by any who wish to, though I cannot say what is there.

“Colonel Forest, you are to remain here until tomorrow morning, when you will command the patrol boat back to base in Baton Rouge. Until I return, my blessings on you and yours, Captain Frick, First Officer Fred, and the crew of Deliverance.

“Oh, I will have a scribe write everything down. Tomorrow, you read it and either agree, or submit changes. Notify your WSU people of my decisions tonight and see if there are any points that have been overlooked. Good evening to all,” she concluded before her horn flashed and she vanished with a faint pop of displaced air.

Everyone remained quiet for a moment after Her Majesty left, until Freida spoke up. “She’s not half as bad as she’s made out to be,” she observed. “Anyone for a quick supper?”

“What’s available, Maw?” Fred asked.

“Porridge and cornbread, with molasses. I can do that up right quick,” Freida confirmed.

At a nod from Frick, Fred told his wife, “Go ahead and get started. Colonel, how many non-zombie crew are aboard the patrol boat?”

Colonel Forest thought for a moment, his gem flickering. “Three, the lieutenant in charge and two sergeants. Eight, no, nine zombies. Are you offering dinner, First Officer?”

“Yes, we are. Captain Hardegan, your crew is invited as well. Can some tables be set out on the pier, because there won’t be enough room in here for all. Oh, does anyone want some leftover fried fish?” Fred asked.

“How long left over?” Forest asked.

“From lunch,” Frieda said. “It’s in the fridge. I can heat it up and those of us who want some can add it in their porridge. Should I break out spare coffee pots?”

Colonel Forest chuckled some. “That would be a good idea, Miz Frieda!”

The next day, about nine, Queen Marie returned with a package of official papers, one additional pony, a rather ornate saddlebag, and no thunderflash and black cloud of teleportation smoke. She requested to hold court on the pier rather than aboard Deliverance, which was swiftly granted. A table was set up, all the non-zombies gathered, and she began her presentation.

“First off, I want to commend the North Point staff for subtly countering Cargill’s moves yesterday. Second, Patrol Boat Three’s staff for not getting involved. From the Colonel’s reports, none of the patrol boat’s crew had any awareness of Cargill’s plans until she put them in effect. Third, I compliment Captain Frick and the crew of Deliverance for NOT escalating matters when they had every reason to do so, to preserve their lives. They easily could have killed Cargill and two zombies, but they chose not to. I can use more ponies like them, but they have a mission of their own, which I will let them pursue,” she started off.

Marie then put a hoof on the saddlebag she had brought. Using her white glow, the bag opened, and an official-looking folder was removed and given to Frick. “In there are what we discussed last night, along with maps of what territory I claim exclusivity on. Outside of the borders, I do not watch. If the WSU wishes to set up a trading outpost nearby, I will not object. I had planned to start contact with outside, but not for another few years yet. To that end, I want to send an emissary out to the WSU, someone honorable, someone worthy. Captain Hardegan, do step forward.”

Startled, Hardegan stood and stepped up to the table. Marie, using her glow, removed Hardegan’s red gem medallion and replaced it with a larger green one. “As of now, you are Ambassador Hardegan, assigned to see how the WSU and my kingdom here can successfully integrate, if at all. It is requested of the Deliverance crew to bring the Ambassador to contact with the WSU, but it is only a request. If you cannot do so, Captain Frick, please say so and we can arrange other ways.

“Lieutenant Parker, Sergeant Kramer, do step forward,” she said. When the two hippogriffs did so, Marie replaced their medallions with those of the next rank up. “Captain Parker, Lieutenant Kramer, you now command North Point. You know the instructions already. Sergeant Smith will be added to your crew to maintain proper staff balance. You have one of the strongest concentrations of zombies here, in case of unpleasantness coming from the north. May it never be necessary,” she said to all as a rather dingy-looking brown unicorn with white socks and blaze, and a nearly incandescent green mane stepped up next to Sergeant Longbaugh.

“Colonel Forest, your new orders are to go to the granary that the Deliverance went to yesterday and load up as much as you can safely take, to bring back to Baton Rouge. Construct a larger raft and make sure the grain makes it to the Depot. Will ease the budget quite a bit.”

Marie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This audience is at an end. Captain Parker, get with Colonel Forest on design and construction of a larger raft. Ambassador Hardegan, please join me with the Deliverance crew to review the documents. Back to work, ponies!”

Aboard Deliverance, Frick, Fred, Hardegan and Queen Marie sat at the saloon table, papers spread out around them. “If I’m understanding this correctly, Your Majesty, your territorial claim is from here, east along the former Louisiana/Mississippi border, along that line of latitude further east to the Alabama state line, and all points south. On the west side, the east bank of the Atchafalaya River is considered your territory, but the west bank is fair game. Inside those boundaries, you hold sway and desire no trespass unless invited, correct?” Fred outlined.

“Correct, First Officer Halvorsen. I may set up a contact station in Biloxi, should there be enough interest. I do not think there is any true hurry on that, is there?”

“May I ask a question, Your Majesty?” Frick asked. “Why? Why this territory? What’s going on that demands this?”

Marie thought some on the question. “I’m not sure I can answer that in a way that you would understand, Captain. What do you know about voodoo?” she asked.

“Basically, nothing that hasn’t come out of Hollywood,” was Frick’s reply.

“Perhaps I can answer that, Your Majesty,” Fred spoke up. At her nod, he went on. “You answer to a deity or group of deities or spirits that brought you here. They want you to do something for them that involves this territory. Now, we don’t need to know just what it is. You are under an oath to do something, so, you are taking steps to get it done.”

“In essence, without being specific, you are very close to the truth. How did you come to that conclusion?” Marie asked.

“It’s what I am doing for a deity myself, Your Majesty,” Fred replied. At both Marie’s and Hardegan’s startled blinks, he explained about how he is in contact with Raven, and is acting as his agent here on this plane of existence, helping others find the deity that would best serve that individual’s needs. “I have some fringe benefits, like healing by touch and being able to speak the language of whom I am near. For instance, in your presence, I can speak fluent French. Frick has studied that language, but you are more of a ‘native speaker’, and I can read that easily.”

“Interesting. I had no idea such would be happening to others. That could explain why I find you and yours agreeable.” Marie then looked at the papers and maps spread on the table. “Are you in agreement with the terms so outlined here, Captain?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I spoke with Captain Prateek this morning, and he agrees to your terms for now, and awaits the chance to speak with Ambassador Hardegan about setting up trade relations, both with you and yours and the rest of the world. I know you know of Havana, and there is more involved than just there. I am authorized to sign these papers on behalf of the WSU, and agree to bring your Ambassador to the WSU for more detailed talks. Honor should always be met with honor, not treachery,” Frick said before stopping.

“I have noticed that tendency in you and yours, Captain. Don’t ever lose the tendency,” Marie said before sipping some coffee.

Fran spoke up from the pilothouse. “Pardon me, Your Majesty, but how many ponies dwell in your domain? How many are zombies?”

“Very good questions, Technical Officer. Overall, in my domain, I have a little short of two thousand five hundred living beings of various types, and only one hundred fifty-eight zombies. Zombies are of use, but they require care, supervision and proper handling. Not many of my ponies are capable of being good zombie operators,” Marie replied.

“How about technology? Do you have power? Communications? Anything of the sort anywhere?” Fran asked. “If so, communications will be easier. There is some of the Internet remaining. You could call the WSU and talk directly!” Fran exclaimed.

Marie shook her head, looking at the table. “There is, but only in limited areas of Baton Rouge and New Orleans. We have a plenitude of refined and unrefined fuel which we could offer for trade, along with some other products. I don’t have a complete inventory yet, but it’s being worked on.

“I have found that if I try to operate technology more sophisticated than a light switch, the technology goes dead quickly, usually with smoke. I use the enchanted gems to communicate. Where one of my operators are, I can go to, by using the gem as an indicator. In my territory, I can go anywhere I wish instantly. I have not tried to go far beyond what I claim. That’s what my subjects are for.

“Ponies and others, thank you for your assistance. Time to get back to my business. Ambassador Hardegan, you know what I desire. Do your job well.” Marie then paused to look at everypony in the cabin. “Remember, it can be lonely at the top. Looking fearsome is but one way to deter enemies, just be ready when the bluff is called. Until we meet again.” She then vanished with the faint noise of her teleport.

Silence reigned in the cabin for a good moment or so before Frack spoke. “You know, I can respect her. Some of what she does is smoke and mirrors, but it keeps her focused on her goals. One would think she rules over a land of zombies, but that’s not really the case.”

“Brother, I wonder why they call you dumb. You just proved you’re not,” Frick said quietly, finishing the dregs of his coffee.

“I know that, bro. If they think I’m dumb, they won’t try hard to outwit me, so I can outwit them. Been working for how long now?” Frack replied with a smile.

Author's Note

I had this chapter done and dusted, except for some last-minute reviews, by last Saturday. How I managed that, I don't know. Had to wait till today to post.

Looks like Marie Laveau is just as mean and deadly as she has been reported to be. But, like all bits of myth and legendry, what one hears may not be actual facts. Never forget that.

Also, smart of Frick, Fred and Fran for not being trigger-happy fools. Could have plugged Cargill and the zombies, but they held back. Now, had Marie NOT shown up, it could have been different.

After this, the Gulf of Mexico and some blue-water sailing. Time to see if they learned anything heading down river...

Chapter 18: To Mobile and Beyond!

“Ship’s log, Stardate 1604.18, 0930 hours, Security Officer Foster Hardegan, deck officer under instruction, recording.

“We left North Point outpost an hour and a half ago, heading down the Atchafalaya River to the coast. We are doing our best to map the area as we go, seein’ as nobody’s done come down this way yet. One thing fo’ shuah, it ain’t nothin’ like the maps from befoah! The river up heah is much wider, somewhat deeper, and a whole lot faster than befoah Marie took the diversion dam down.

“I told the captain this heah boat is not too far off from the patrol boat we had in Rapides Parish, but ah can’t blame him fo’ wantin’ to supervise mah first day. He’s upstairs, just watchin. Fran showed me the computer here. It’s better than what we used, but ah had little trouble figurin’ it out. Just glad she walked me through it.

“Sandra, ah’ll be happy to schedule an interview tomorrow, when ah’m not on watch. Raht now, I got me a ship to learn how to run!”

Meanwhile, on the bridge, Frick was enjoying the cool, clean air, watching the territory. “Captain’s log, stardate 1604.18, 0930 hours. Finally, on our way to the sea. Frack and Freida are out hunting to replenish our meat stocks, Fran is fishing, Fred is napping and Foster’s below in the pilothouse. I trust him there.

“According to the maps, it’s about a hundred twenty miles to the Gulf of Mexico. With this current, and taking it easy, I’ll say two days, maybe three. One thing I have been noticing is all the damage here. There’s a road to the southeast, according to the map. Thing is, I can’t see it. Pretty soon, we’ll come to a couple of bridges. If they’re down, then I would think the odds of finding anything intact along this river are pretty much slim to none. For what I know, new rivers can get a little rambunctious.

“Once we get to the Gulf, we’re going to anchor in a quiet spot for however long it takes for all of us on board to learn the navigation system well enough to use the waypoint navigation system! Having to come down this way not only adds more miles, we have to detour around Louisiana and Mississippi to get to where we can city-hop again. We’ll try to keep the shoreline in sight, but we know for sure not to count on that. Good thing about having six on board, we can keep four-hour watches with a dog watch so we’re not stuck with the same shifts all the time. We’re still gonna have to hot-bunk now, Frack, Fran, Foster and I. Good thing Foster’s possessions fit into a set of saddlebags. We’re running out of room here!”

Frick chuckled a bit. He felt the ship turn a bit to port and the engines slowing some. He looked up. “Uh, oh… both bridges here are down here in the little town of Simmesport. Foster has the sense to slow down as we approach. Time to check to see if this sonar rig will help. I’ll send this when I can. Deliverance out.”

Frick activated the fish-finder sonar, aiming ahead. After studying the readout, he activated the intercom to the pilothouse. “Foster, pull up the sonar screen and aim for the deep spots. Bridges are down and I can see bits poking out of the water.”

“Will do, Captain. Okay, got it up. I see where to go. You want control?” Foster asked.

“If you scrape the paint, I’ll use your blood in the paint mix! Otherwise, you know what to do!”

Foster laughed. “Ah got that, Captain!”

“Captain’s log, stardate 1604.21, 0630 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“We made the Gulf mid-afternoon yesterday, but held off our setting out until today. The waters were a bit stirred up after a storm, and we thought it prudent to wait until the waves settled. We have about three hundred miles to go before reaching Mobile, and we’re planning on taking it in two jumps, getting to the old mouth of the Mississippi before nightfall, then sprinting again the next day for Mobile Bay. Fred will have the watch starting at 0800, which is when we will set off. I may be the Captain, but I’m not shirking my time on duty, even if I get the oh-four to oh-eight watch. Tomorrow, I’ll have the midnight to four. Oh, yippee skippie.

“Coming down the Atchafalaya, all I can say is that it will make a semi-decent shipping route, but I would not send a large ship up. Every single bridge we went by was down, every village, town and city in ruins, and more debris than I even want to think about strewn on shorelines, in eddies, and just about every place yet. Honestly, Captain Prateek, I would not send much more than a tugboat and barge up this way. Maybe if you made a base in Mobile and tried checking train routes to Memphis, you may be better off. Then again, what do I know?

“Speaking of trains, I got a call yesterday from Stella DeMarco, the Memphis team leader. She told me they found a service engine in the Memphis train yard, and her team should have it running in about a month, give or take. You may want to get with her and see about them blazing a trail to Mobile.

“Sun coming up over the water… unusual sight, for us landlubber inland Nebraskans. Just one of the unusual sights for us to see. What the…”

Some unusual noises were heard, like something was thumping on the hull of the boat, the pilothouse door getting thrown open, some very interesting, loud and perfectly clear swearing in French, followed by a loud WHOOM sound, some splashing, then silence. Hoofbeats were heard, along with some indistinct moaning. More noises were heard, then a voice on the mic.

“Frick was recording, I see. Well, this is Tech Officer Vasquez. Some very large fishlike being made some lunges at the boat, waking everyone up. What got everyone’s attention was when Frick blasted the thing with his horn. Blew a hole right through the thing's head. It’s still out there twitching. Freida’s looking after the captain now. He’ll probably sleep through the day. Good thing we got the waypoint data already entered into the computer and all set to go. Let me do the send and save now, and get back to checking the boat over. We took a couple of good thumps. Of all the times to want a hippogriff… End record.”

Fran did the send and save, then began a shipwide status check. In the saloon, Fred took charge, sending Frack and Foster to do an inspection of the boat to check for cracks and leaks. Foster did the walkdown while Frack took wing and did a slow inspection of the waterline. Seeing Fran in the pilothouse, Fred went to Freida. “How is he?” he asked.

“You tell me, you’re the healer. I’m just the EMT,” Freida said, some crabbiness evident. Sudden wake-ups have never been something she liked.

“Go make some fresh coffee, Maw. You need it,” Fred said as he touched Frick’s hoof with his own. “He’s just exhausted, like last time. Hope this char on his horn doesn’t mean much.” He wiped Frick’s horn with a dishrag. It cleaned up easily. “Looks like you should trim his mane back. He’s burned part of it.”

“Sounded like he pumped some serious amps through it, Paw. Just what is that thing he blasted?”

“God only knows, because I don’t. Looks like a cross between a seal and a shark. There’s only one thing I’m certain of, Maw.” Fred said quietly as he put the towel back on its hook.

“What’s that, Paw?”

“It’s dead.”

Frack and Foster came back to the saloon about ten minutes later, reporting the only problem they found was in the auxiliary fuel tank feed line, a fitting had come loose and spilled a little diesel, maybe a pint at most. “Ah got it back tight. Ain’t leakin’ now.” Foster concluded his report.

“Hull’s sound, no cracks I could see, I’ll do a below-decks inspection, see if there’s anything pooling in the bilges,” Frack added.

“You do that, Frack. Foster, please put the Captain to bed, then get some rest yourself, unless you would like some breakfast,” Fred told the two.

“Ah’ll come up fo’ some coffee, maybe some toast. Once ah’s sure of which bunk ah can crash in, then I’ll take a nap,” Foster said as he picked Frick’s limp sleeping form up in his golden glow.

Fred sat and thought as Freida put her bag up and started breakfast. “What’s on your mind, Paw?” she asked as she mixed up some waffle batter.
“Debating on if we should stick to the timetable or shove off now. I really don’t like having that thing drifting next to the boat,” Fred said quietly.

Freida stopped mixing the batter and poured some hot water into a teacup before adding a bag. “Orange Zinger. It will help you think. Would you like some advice?” she said as she gave him the cup.

“From you, always,” Fred said as he took the cup. “What do you have in mind?”

“Photograph and video the thing from as many angles as we can, send the pics off to Maasvlakte, then get out of the frying pan before the oil lights up. Got it?”

Fred put the cup down on the saloon table. “Good idea, Maw. Why didn’t I think of that? The tea should be ready by the time I get back,” he said as he got up.

“Overdone is more like it,” Freida said as she took the cup and set it on the galley counter, so she could watch it.

Fred relieved Fran in the pilothouse, directing her to video the critter while he raised anchor and activated the ship’s autopilot. He input one change, to leave the bay at five knots, going to twelve knots once out of the bay and on course to the first waypoint.

When the video was complete, Fran uploaded it to Rotterdam and the WSU before going to take a nap, using the big bed because Foster was using hers. Fred remained at the conn, his shift running from eight until noon, when Freida would take over. He just hoped that Frick would be able to take over when his turn came up next, at midnight.

At quarter after ten, the phone rang. Not a personal phone, the ship’s phone. Using a stylus, Fred accepted the call, on speaker. “Deliverance, First Officer Fred speaking. How may we help you?” he said. Old habits die hard. Very hard.

“Fred, this is Captain Prateek. Please report the ship's status,” came from the speaker.

“Underway on diesels, on course to waypoint one, making turns for twelve knots. Sea state has moderate swells, to us. Waves are not breaking over the bow. We should be arriving at Destination One by five p.m., if I’m reading this right,” Fred reported as best he knew how.

“How is Frick doing? Still unconscious?” Dilip asked.

“I will check on him when I get off watch at noon, Captain. All I read from him before is exhaustion. That’s the second time he’s uncorked the big gun. Drains him big time.”

“Okay. We’ve had a chance to review the log entry and the video you sent to us. What you killed does bear similarities to something the Fugro Symphony encountered in Brazil late last year. Not identical, but there are some traits in common. That means Charybdis has agents in your neighborhood. May it not get a report off.”

“Charybdis? Who is that?” Fred asked.

Dilip’s sigh was audible over the phone connection. “Charybdis is not a who, it is a what. A demon with much black magic associated with it. I presume you encountered a scout. May you never run into anything bigger. Your fifty-caliber rifle will be as effective as a child's toy darts gun against one of Charybdis’ larger minions. I will send you a detailed report of what we know about Charybdis via email. Any damage to the boat?”

“Trifling, Captain. Quickly repaired, no leaks evident in the hull. It did bump against us while we were at anchor, but no damage was noted to the hull. I take it you would like us to report if we see something similar?” Fred asked.

“Yes, to the Duty Officer. If Charybdis is seriously nosing about over there, we need to know. May you not attract its interest. Just keep sending your log entries, Sandra will boil them down. If it’s urgent, like an unusual sighting, phone my Duty Officer. Meanwhile, I’m going over the treaty in detail. I’m glad Queen Marie is open to the idea of trade, and I would like to discuss that in detail with the Ambassador, when he gets here. Anything further to report, Fred?” Dilip asked.

“No, Captain. All seems well. Will call if necessary,” Fred said succinctly.

“Very well, First Officer. Captain out.”

“Ship’s log, stardate 1604.23, 0810 hours, Second Officer Freida recording.

“We made Mobile Bay last night shortly after sundown. It was decided to anchor out in the bay and not approach town until after sunrise. With the arrival of daylight, we can see how smart a decision it was.

“Downtown Mobile, and in particular the waterfront area, looks like a bomb went off in it. An oil refinery must have caught fire and gone kaboom, because Frack is overflying the city, and he’s saying that the entire waterfront from the Interstate Ten bridges south looks burned, melted and charred. The bridges are down, and it looks like everything on the Mobile River side of the bay is a lost cause. He’s getting film of the devastation, while we’re heading for the eastern shore, hoping we can find a place to at least put SOMEthing in the fuel tanks. From where we are, it’s pretty much a hundred miles to Pensacola, and we’ve burned a lot of diesel getting here from the west side of Louisiana.

“Here’s hoping. More later. Freida out.” She did the save and send, then went back to work looking for some place to refuel.

“Ship’s log, stardate 1604.23, 1400 hours, Chief Engineer Frack recording.

“We have found a place to fuel up, and for the past couple of hours we have set up the purifier and pumps, finally getting a chance to show Foster how to do it. There’s enough here to do a fill-up, which will take until tomorrow to finish. Freida’s out filming more of the wreckage of Mobile. Her claws are better camera operators than my hooves, for sure. The entire Mobile River waterfront is completely, utterly ruined. Whenever that fire was, I’m glad I was nowhere near it. Day after tomorrow, Pensacola. Fred and Foster are out looking for supplies, Frick’s watching the purifier, and Fran’s asleep. She relieves me at four. I can see the logic in the watch schedule, but getting used to it ain’t easy!”

“Ship’s log, stardate 1604.25, 1630 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“We have arrived at Pensacola, Florida, and are setting up to refuel here at a sheltered marina, because Frack says weather is due soon. We’ll spend a day or two here, restocking and evaluating before starting to head down the Florida coast. Next target after here is Tampa/Saint Petersburg, and a place that is highlighted on our charts, Sunken Gardens. It’s been a well-known botanical garden for decades, and we want to check it out, to see if any exotics have taken root there. We have several large vacuum-sealed bags full of poison joke petals and stems, which we will hand over to the first WSU rep we run into, along with another large bag full of smaller bags of other pharmaceutical flora.

“Looking forward to some time on shore, replenish supplies, and kick back for a WHAT THE FUCK?” Frick exclaimed as a dark blur raced up from belowdecks, out the open saloon door, up onto the pier and away. “I’ll get back to this later. Captain out.” Frick quickly saved the file, but didn’t send. Looking in the salon, he noticed one of the two-way radios was missing from its charging rack. Frack and Foster were looking, both quite confused, at the gangplank that led from the swim deck to the pier, which was swaying gently, a couple of Frack’s feathers floating in the remnant breeze.

“Y’all see what that was?” Foster asked.

“Fran, but she doesn’t move that fast without good reason. Wonder what it is,” Frack said as he went back to assembling the purifier.

“Remind me not to get in a foot race with her,” Foster muttered.

“Don’t even think of trying. She can outspeed ME, for a little while, at least,” Frack replied.

“Cornhusker Five to Cornhusker Base! Priority ONE!” Fran’s voice shouted over the radio.

“Cornhusker Five, this is Cornhusker One. What’s going on?”

“We got a bus into a tree, at the intersection of...Chase and Baylen… I can hear kids inside! Send help!”

“Let me call up the map, Five. Any fire visible?” Frick asked as he called up a map.

“Not yet, but there’s black smoke drifting up from under the engine. I’m going to try to release the back door! Five out!” Fran said before the line went quiet.

Frick called out from the pilothouse. “Frieda, grab your gun bag. Frack, you and Freida get airborne and find the smoke Fran reported. Foster, get the wagon untied and set up. I’ll wake up Fred. MOVE!” he commanded.

Freida and Frack took off, Frieda grabbing her radio and medical bag first. Foster went to the bow and started removing the wagon from its mount, taking his time because while he had seen it being put up and taken down, he hadn’t done it before.

Frick went below decks to wake up Fred, but he found his First Officer already up and getting his saddlebags onto his back. “Bus full of kids and a few adults had just left the church lot when the Flash hit. They plowed into a tree. Some spirit let me know. I know where,” Fred managed to say while getting his bags tied down with one strap.

“Foster’s getting the wagon ready. You go there and take charge, I’ll run the boat. I’ll put on some more coffee,” Frick said as he got out of Fred’s way.

“Help Foster get the wagon ready, then harness me. We’ll keep in touch,” Fred said as he left the saloon and made his way to the pier. Foster had the wagon free and on the pier, his golden glow unfolding the wagon and setting the pegs in place. When Fred was ready, Frick removed the saddlebags, put them in the wagon, and helped Fred hitch up. Foster went back inside to get a radio and the spare first aid gear, also grabbing the one fire extinguisher kept on the after deck, near where the spare fuel barrels were tied, putting the stuff in the wagon before Fred trotted off, Foster keeping up.

“Cornhusker Flight to Cornhusker Base. On scene. Will call in when able.” Frieda called.

“Ten-four, Cornhusker Three. Cornhusker Two and Pelican Six are on the way with the wagon and extra gear,” Frick replied.

“Cornhusker Flight copies. Getting to work.”

Author's Note

Well, so much for Mobile... the city may be all right, but the waterfront is more like burned toast. Pensacola, there's a busload of kids needing help. Never ends, does it?

Chapter 19: The Pensacola Bus Return Rescue

At the scene of the bus crash, Fran managed to get the rear door of the bus open, to face a cacophony of children screaming, trying to coordinate their new limbs. The few larger ponies and others she can see were in a similar strait. “Make your way to the back! Help is on the way!” she shouted as she leaned in, looking for whoever was closest to the back.

Her first rescue was an Abyssinian, tall, ginger-tabby marked and possessing considerable bulk for a presumed teenager, yet the clothes he or she was wearing were slack. “Let me catch my breath and I’ll be back to help,” the tabby boy said as he got out of the bus.

“Sounds like a plan. More help is coming. Watch for them,” Fran said as she helped another Abyssinian out, this one much smaller than the first, gray tabby markings.

“Where’s Toby? Where’s my brother?” the kitten sobbed.

The larger Abyssinian called out, “I’m right here, Gina. Come here, okay?” The little gray bolted to the larger ginger, knocking him onto his rump. “Not so hard!”

Frack and Freida were next to arrive. They went to the front of the bus, where the smoke was getting noticeably thicker. Freida was able to get the front door open, and got to work getting the driver out, some sort of pony who was slumped over the wheel. Frieda got the driver out, using her talons to cut the seat belt. She found the driver had a broken left hind leg, down low. Fortunately, the skin wasn’t broken. When she got the driver out of the bus, Frack went in.

“Okay, come on, kids! Let’s get out! Wonder later, exit now!” he called out.

The first to start moving was a hippogriff chick, a rather small one. Frack used a wing to help guide the chick down the stairs into Frieda’s arms. “What happened?” the little chick asked, her Dora the Explorer shirt hanging loose on her

“We’ll explain later, little one. Let’s get everyone off the bus, okay?”

“Okay, Miss. I sit in the shade, okay?” the little hippogriff said, pointing at the sidewalk.

“Good idea! You do that!” Frieda told the chick, patting her gently with a wing. She then reached for her radio. “Husker Three to Husker Two. Paw, where are you?”

“Pelican Six to Husker Three. We just turned the corner onto Baylen, about five or six blocks. We’re going as fast as is safe, Three. We see you and the smoke,” Foster called back.

“Hustle your bustle, Pelican! The driver has a broken leg, he’s the lump you see off to one side,” Frieda said as she guided a pegasus filly to where the hippogriff was waiting.

“Going from trot to gallop! Pelican Six out!” Foster replied. He grabbed the fire extinguisher in his glow and went to a full-out gallop, leaving Fred and the wagon in the dust. He wound up running the half-mile in a bit over a minute, Frieda wisely getting out of his way as she heard his hoofbeats. His glow wrenched the hood off the bus, and he aimed the extinguisher stream at the base of the smoke puff, which went from black to gray.

“I’ll help Fran, you get kids out your way!” Frieda squawked, heading back along the bus. She changed her mind when one of the emergency exit windows popped open and a pony’s head came out, coughing. She got up on her back paws and helped the pony, an earth pony mare, out through the window.

Foster, once the fire bottle was emptied, tossed it aside and went in. Seeing the frightened ponies inside, he reverted to his training, being a sheriff for over twenty years and a deputy for a dozen more. “Now, everyone calm down! Ah’m Sheriff Hardegan, and we’ll get you outta here, but you have to CALM DOWN!”

His tactic worked. The pandemonium inside the bus quickly settled, most of the children’s eyes looking at Foster with hope, not panic. With him at the front, Fran at the back, and Frieda at the window, they had the bus emptied before Fred made it to the scene, Frack helping those inside to get out. A large female diamond dog was at the one open emergency window, handing out smaller foals to Frieda.

Fred, once he was close enough, set the wagon’s brakes and got out of the harness, going to where the driver was sprawled on the road. A touch told him that the driver is a pegasus, does indeed have a broken leg, as well as two cracked ribs in his barrel. While he could not heal the broken bones until they were set, he could ease the driver’s pain. “The kids… what happened?” the driver managed to whisper.

“The kids are being evacuated from the bus now. You seem to be the worst off. You’re going to have to wait a bit before my wife resets your hoof. She’s helping to get the kids out. I’m Fred Halvorsen, from Oconee, Nebraska. What’s your name?” Fred asked.

“John Doyle, deacon of the Basilica of Saint Michael the Archangel. We were taking some of the diocese’s children on a day trip to a carnival in Tallahassee. I had just barely pulled out of the parking lot when there was a bright flash and I could not grip the steering wheel, plus my shoe lodged under the brake. Just what happened?” John asked.

“More on that later, okay? That way I only have to tell the story once. How many were on the bus?” Fred asked in return.

“Thirty. Twenty-four between nine and fourteen, two senior teenagers, myself and three parents. What’s going to happen with us? Where is the fire department?” John said, his mind catching up to events, and not liking what it saw.

“Easy, Deacon Doyle,” Fred said in a soothing voice, touching the fallen pegasus with a hoof. “I was the sexton of Saint Isidore’s church in Columbus, Nebraska for some years. A lot of strange things have happened, magic is in existence and can be used by most species. Thanks to divine intervention, I can heal at a touch, speak any language, and determine what path is best for a pony, should he or she truly need it. We will have a more detailed talk later. Now, where would be the best place to shelter everyone?”

“The Basilica, which is just a block away. I locked up when we left, and the keys are on my ring, which is in the ignition. Saint Isidore’s, eh? Welcome to Pensacola,” John said drowsily, putting his head down.

“Easy, Deacon. Salvation is at hoof. Let us help you in your hour of need,” Fred told the pegasus, who shut his eyes. “Sleep the mender.”

Meanwhile, through the combined efforts of Freida, Frack, Fran and Foster, the bus was successfully evacuated. When it looked like the bus was trying to catch fire again, Foster took the extinguisher from inside the bus and successfully snuffed the smoke. Frack found a clipboard in one of the front seats which presumably held a roster of those aboard. “Okay, who’s in charge here?” Frack called out.

“Deacon Doyle. He was driving,” said the large female diamond dog, whose clothes were straining to span her enhanced acreage. “Who are you, and what happened to us?” she snapped.

“I’m Frankland Larsen, Chief Engineer of the motor yacht Deliverance. With me are the Second Officer, Frieda Halvorsen, she’s the griffoness, Technical Officer Fran Vasquez, the tortoiseshell tabby, Security Officer Foster Hardegan the white unicorn, and the blue pony over by your deacon is our First Officer, Fred Halvorsen. Now, all of you remember this: we dropped everything and got our butts over here to save your asses. We moored less than an hour ago,” Frack said, pacing around in front of everypony there, wings spread, clearly getting worked up. “Now, does anypony have any possible idea on where we can put you all until we can figure out a plan of action for you?” He flapped his wings some, lifting off the ground, glaring right at the diamond dog.

The tactic worked. The diamond dog lost her belligerence. “I’m Anne Jones, one of the parent monitors on this trip. It looks like you have the roster there. Would you call the roll, so we can find out who’s who?” she asked in a far meeker voice.

Frack landed and smiled warmly. “But of course, Mrs. Jones.” He called off each name on the list. Turned out the group consisted of seven earth ponies, five pegasi, five unicorns, three diamond dogs (all related), three Abyssinians (two related), two hippogriffs (unrelated), two griffons, two thestrals and one Ornithian.

While Frack and Fran handled the attendance, Fred, Frieda and Foster took care of the deacon. Foster carefully lifted the pegasus with his glow and set him into the wagon. Then Fred and Frieda conferred as Frieda set and bound the break, after which Fred healed the bones in their proper positions. When that was done, Fred brought John around and asked if he would be willing to speak to the rest of the bus passengers. He said he was willing, so Fred hitched himself back to the wagon and brought John to where he could address the crowd. There, he managed to really put them all at ease from the back of the wagon, calling out each name on the list and learning who was whom. He then told the crowd that they were to listen to those that had helped them, and for now, they were going to stay at the Basilica. “Mister Fred was a sexton at a church in Nebraska, and is as much a man of God as I am. We must all work together to pull through this and emerge as better people… or whatever we are called!” he finished with a laugh, which proved infectious.

Foster got the keys out of the bus, and the whole herd walked the block to the Basilica. Once there, Fred and Frieda said they were going to get some food for everyone, while the other three would stay and start talking about how everything had changed, what to expect, and what everyone can and should do.

Back aboard Deliverance, Frick waited anxiously for news. He knew damn well that they were going to be busy, and not to bug them for updates. Once he got the fueling started, he thought of something- the drone. Finding the charge at ninety percent, he launched the drone and flew it in the direction Fran had run off to, catching sight of the scene after a few minutes. He parked the drone on a nearby rooftop and set the camera to watch while he busied himself monitoring the ship’s refueling. He followed the herd’s movement to a nearby church, and when all were inside, he brought the drone back to the boat. He had just plugged the drone in to recharge when Frieda called via radio.

“Frick, Fred and I are on our way back. Time to dig into our supplies. We have thirty ponies at once, twenty-four between the ages of nine to fourteen. Looks like we’ll be here a while.”

“So I noticed, Freida. Everyone else staying to educate the newbies?”

“That’s right. Plus clouds are moving in, like Frack predicted. Break free the portable generator and gas can. We’ll be there in a while. Good thing we have a lot of provisions!”

“How long are they going to last? Three days?”

“Longer than that. Trust me. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Right, Freida. Cornhusker base out.” Frick clipped the radio to his harness strap and headed up to the bridge, where he removed the generator and the two five-gallon gas cans from their mountings, levitating them to the pier, followed by a side of venison, dried fish, a can of pemmican and a large can of government-issue crackers from Saint Louis, still unopened and freshness dated through 2026.

When Fred and Frieda arrived, Frieda called Fran to ask what supplies were on hand at the Basilica. “More than I hoped, actually. Some of the food in their pantry has spoiled, but it’s not as bad as we thought. Cots, clothes, bedding are all adequate, just no power. Bring the generator, we have extension cords and power bars.” Fran reported.

“Will do. We’ll be there in an hour or so. Let us get packed and we’ll call when we leave here,” Frieda told her friend.

“We’ll be ready for you. Five out.”

The three at the boat spent the next hour loading the wagon under skies that were darkening with more than just sunset. Frick took five minutes to cover the wagon with a tarp, screwing hooks in the wagon to keep the tarp in place. “Send Frack and Fran back tonight, and give Foster the option to stay there or not. I’m certain the two of you will want to at least spend the night with them, for which I don’t object. Hope you can train them all to be good scavengers!” Frick told the couple before they left.

“They know the city better than we do. Deacon Doyle seems quite sensible, and once we bring the older ones up to speed, they’ll help keep the younger ones in line,” Fred told Frick.

Freida handed Frick a sheet of paper. “This is the full roster of all of them, name, age and species. I’m sure you will want to call Rotterdam and let them know. There’s no way they will be able to survive for long just by themselves,” she said.

Frick took the paper in his glow and looked it over. “I will do just that. If I remember right, the Rhine Forest will be making a run to Havana and Mexico sometime in the near future. I’ll send a message to the Admiralty and ask. We’re going to have to plug them into the comm system soon, so they won’t need to use us as intermediaries. The main question I’m going to have is will we be able to catch the Rhine Forest on this trip or will we have to stay in Havana for a few months. If we can catch the ride, we can tell them honestly that we will meet again.

“I don’t want to lie to them, but you can say we’ll be looking into the problem. Rescue to what we know as civilization is not a matter of if, but when. Answer all the questions you can, but stress the eventual rescue is not up to us,” he concluded as a couple of raindrops started to fall.

“Don’t worry, Frick. Keep the home fires burning,” Fred told his friend.

“Go do the hoo doo you two do so well!” Frick replied with a small laugh as the couple headed out.

Author's Note

Free bonus episode, and not on a Thursday! Lucky everyone!

I have a reason for the early posting, and that is, thanks to Foxena and Goldfur, I now have pictures of everypony aboard the Deliverance! Up on the front page is a group shot, which shows, from left to right, Frieda, Fran, Fred, Foster, Frick and Frack. I'll use the note section to show individual pics, one per chapter. First up, the Captain.

Name: Friedrick Wolff Larsen, or 'Frick'
Age: 61+
Hometown: Oconee, Nebraska
College: University of Nebraska, class of 1975, B.Sci. electrical engineering
Occupation: Chief Engineer, KZEN radio, Columbus, Nebraska
Personality: Loose, fun-loving, borderline irreverent but won't cross the line. Sci-fi nut, having been so since he could remember. Seems to play through life, but knows when playtime is over and get serious.
Cutie mark: Two silver wires in a 'V' formation, three electric arcs rising between them (a Jacob's Ladder)
Notable Talent: Has twice used his power to release a bolt of considerable power. Knocks him out for a while after, but blew a bridge to rubble once, and put a bolt through the head of a 'thing' they didn't stick around to examine. Learning how to be a responsible leader. Maybe someday, right?
Other notes: Shortest of the ponies aboard, and wears his 'captain's hat' almost constantly. Uses hairpins to hold it in place, especially after Frieda trimmed his normally-bushy mane and tail down to a mohawk after his second horn blast, which charred part of his mane...
Usual call sign: Cornhusker One

Chapter 20: Class is Now in Session

“Captain’s log, stardate 1604.26, 0700 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“The Admiralty should have gone over the report I sent in last night, telling about the busload of kids we came across right after we moored here in Pensacola. Fran will take the forenoon shift while Frack will take the afternoon. I expect to spend much of the day at the basilica, trying to sort out this mess and figure out how to get them pointed in the right direction. Fred and Frieda spent the night there, with the wagonload of supplies. We’re going to have to find sources of resupply here somewhere. The locals should have better ideas on what’s where in this town, because I don’t have any idea. The only place I know of in Florida is Disney World, and that was back in ninety-six with Frack.

“More information tonight, Sandra. I know you’ll get the word out to those who need to hear it, and thanks for the schedule for the rest of the year you sent me this morning. It gives me a better idea on how long to plan for these ponies to be on their own before help arrives. Expect another report from me in about twelve hours. If you need to speak to me, use my personal number, not the boat number. Off to face the crowd. Frick out.” He did the save and send, then turned control over to Fran while he packed his saddlebags, along with Frack and Foster, with stuff they needed as well as what Fred asked them to bring.

“One thing for sure, we’re going to need moah coffee heah soon,” Foster observed as he finished packing his bag.

“Today, we spend time with the group, teaching them about how to be ponies, or whatever. Tomorrow, we start scavenging with a vengeance. We got a lot of mouths to feed, a lot of kids who are now alone, and not too many grown-ups to show them the right way,” Frick observed. “Bro, what’s the forecast? Rain clearing out soon?”

“Drizzle and clouds through tonight, then clearing and warming tomorrow, highs about seventy. Flying lessons tomorrow, you’re thinking?” Frack asked his brother.

“If you’re reading my mind, bro, just stick to the headlines, okay?” Frick said drily.

“That’s your job, bro! Mine’s to take wing and fly!” Frack laughed as he headed out, taking off as soon as he was able.

“Is he always like that, Frick?” Foster asked.

“No, not always. Just when he’s awake.”

Just before lunch, Frick turned the large-screen TV, the one hooked to his laptop, off. “Okay, ponies, this concludes this day’s video lesson. After lunch, we will start educational classes. I will teach the unicorns while Frieda will teach the winged ones about flying. Deacon, you and I will talk through lunch to determine where we can go to scavenge. Fred, Fran and Foster will lead a scavenge party after lunch, because we can use some more generators, gasoline, and proper food for everyone, not to mention some more computers for instructional purposes.

“I have guidebooks on the different species that I want you all to read, because not even I know everything. To those of you who are not like any of us from the Deliverance, meaning the Diamond Dogs, thestrals, hippogriffs and Ornithian, I have met some of each, and I can arrange video chats, so you can ask questions I know you will have. Any questions before lunch?”

A young pegasus held up a wing. “When can we learn how to fly?”

Frack smiled as he strutted a little in front of the group. “Tomorrow, the weather will be nicer and I won’t be on watch, so that’s when I can try to teach the winged species how to use them. If I can do it, you can do it, and if you can do it, you WILL do it!” he said with pride. “I have an unblemished record teaching ponies or griffons to fly!”

“And you have fifteen minutes before you’ll be late for watch,” Fred deadpanned.

“Right! Until later, everypony!” Frack waved a wing before heading for the door.

Frieda went up to the pegasus filly. “After lunch, I will be showing all of us with wings some things just as important as getting off the ground and back safely. Mister Frack will be better suited for the flight part, I’ll show you the rest. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me, Miz Frieda!”

As Fran and Freida started serving a rather sketchy lunch, Frick and Fred sat with John and the other three adults from the bus. “Okay, you ponies know this city, I don’t. Can any of you suggest places that we could scavenge from?” Frick asked. “As well as finding longer-term housing?”

Anne Jones, the diamond dog, spoke up first. “For housing, there’s a hotel down the street. I’m sure we can turn it into an adequate shelter.”

“No doubt, but we’re going to look into providing food and water and power to the rooms, plus dividing up the kids among us, along with Toby and Laura,” Deacon Doyle said, referring to the two senior teenagers, Tobias (Toby) Mentone, the big Abyssinian, and Laura Holder, a teen unicorn.

“With six of us, we can each take four. You, Anne, have your two children, while I have my son and Wilma has her daughter,” Karen Pitt, an earth pony mare, added to the conversation.

“I’m sure you can work that out without our input,” Fred said. “Is there a large market nearby, preferably with fuel pumps? After that, a hardware store with lumber, so we can start building you some wagons.”

“Just how did you manage to build that wagon, Mister Fred?” Wilma Gardner, a unicorn mare, asked.

“With the grace of God and a unicorn to manipulate the tools, it was rather easy,” Frick said. “Later on, I will show you how I managed to learn. Just remember, with magic, don’t worry much about HOW you are managing the feat, just accept that you ARE, and you will not have much trouble. Just have faith, and it will work.”

“I look forward to demonstrations,” Wilma said, a touch sourly.

“In answer to your question, Fred, there is a Wal-Mart about four miles away, on Navy Boulevard,” John said, followed by “there’s another one about the same distance on Mobile Highway, with a Home Depot across the street. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like the best idea, John,” Fred said. “We can check out one while raiding the other. You know the kids better than me, so pick me out half a dozen who you think will be the best at breaking and entering.”

“First off, Toby Mentone. He was an offensive lineman playing football, and it looks like he can still power through a lot,” John said, before naming the other Abyssinian boy and Stan Jones, the diamond dog boy. “Something tells me having hands is one of the more important criteria.”

“Good point,” Frick said. He then looked at the earth pony at the table, Karen Pitt. “Miss Karen, I would suggest you go along as well, to learn from Fred just what an earth pony can do.”

“Judging by your build, Missus Pitt, I would reckon your strength to be not too far from mine. Stamina, too. I can pull that wagon with a full load all day and half the night. Think you can?” Fred challenged gently. “Plus, a four-mile walk is hardly anything."

“Sexton Fred, I accept your challenge. I’ve always liked the outdoors, and I can do with a hike. Willie stays here, though. I want him to get unicorn training,” Karen said.

“With any luck, by the time you get back, I’ll have all the unicorns at the very least lighting their horns. Telekinesis rudiments, too. Spellcasting will be a few days down the road,” Frick replied with a smile.

“Sexton Fred mentioned that,” John spoke up. “Just what do you mean by spellcasting?”

Frick thought for a few seconds before responding. “As close as I can figure, it’s a matter of imposing your will on your surroundings to produce a desired effect. If you can picture the outcome clearly, or visualize the steps like a computer program, the spellcasting should work. I, myself, am pretty much self-trained. I have some books that go into the subject, and I have learned a few minor spells. I can’t teleport, but I can pick a lock. I can pick up and assemble the wagon in five minutes, and disassemble it in three. That’s just a taste of what trained unicorns can do.”

“Willie could do stuff like that?” Karen exclaimed, incredulous.

“He COULD, Missus Pitt. Only way to find out is to try, right?”

That evening, after the scavenger hunt, all the adults gathered in a separate room, with a big LED lantern lighting up the place. “That theah store is a treasure trove!” Foster said happily. “Sure, it done smelled like a swamp in August, but from what we found theah, AND at the Home Depot, we can set these folk up raht proper until we can get back heah to evacuate them!”

“Speaking of the evacuation, when can we expect definitive word of that?” John asked.

“Okay, that phone call I got earlier? That was the captain of the ship that will come by here, the Rhine Forest. She expects to be in this area somewhere around the end of summer. Right now, it’s far too early to give a definite date,” Frick explained before some coffee. “That’s one reason why it is of top importance to get you plugged into the communications network ASAP, so you and he can talk more about your requirements. The Rhine Forest is easily large enough for everyone, and the main decision you four here at this table will have to make is, where do you want to resettle?”

“What options are there?” asked Wilma, the unicorn.

“You have three, all with sizable populations, by which I mean a couple of hundred. First and closest choice is Havana, Cuba. Nice place, good people, but primarily Spanish speaking. Next choice is Belfast, Ireland.”

Fred spoke up there. “It’s the smallest of the colonies, but they do speak English there, and they do have a minister. I don’t remember if he is Anglican or Catholic.”

“The third choice, where we have been heading to since Christmastime, is their main base, in the Maasvlakte, Rotterdam. Apparently, it was a major merchant shipping hub,” Frick told them. “Biggest population and biggest need for trained professionals. I’m a radio engineer, Frack is a skilled mechanic, Frieda a librarian, Fred a skilled handyman, and Fran is a skilled I.T. tech.”

Karen was the first to pounce on the omission. “What about you, Sheriff Foster? What’s your skill?”

Foster chuckled a little. “Othah than bein’ a lawman fo’ thirty-plus yeahs an’ a sheriff fo’ twenty? Ah’m the chosen ambassador from the court of Queen Marie Laveau to the World Seafarer’s Union, fo’ the purpose of negotiation’ shipping rights up the Mississippi River to the inland areas of the United States, Miz Karen. It’s a job lakh any othah, a job to be carried out with the utmost honor and dignity.” he said apparently casually, but the seriousness of intent behind the words were quite clear.

“Marie Laveau? As in that old song?” Anne asked, incredulous.

“The lady was no myth, but a lot of legends built around her. Apparently, a soul came back that chose to base itself around her patterns, and has pretty much claimed eastern Louisiana and Southern Mississippi for herself, for reasons not clear to us,” Frick explained.

“She is just, she is honorable, and we have dealt fairly with her. Now, the demon in Memphis who had an infatuation with Elvis Presley, that’s a story for later. HE did not play honorably. Queen Marie did. I have no problem working with her, and neither should any of you,” Fred declared with all the solemnity of a preacher from the pulpit reading a papal bull.

“You really mean it, Sexton. I can feel that,” John said from his place at the table.

“You should. It’s all true.” Fred replied.

Frick got up from the table. “Time for us to get back to the Deliverance for some rest. Foster, would you like to do the night here, telling stories to the folk?”

“It would be an honor, Captain. What time should I relieve the watch?” Foster asked.

“Between noon and one. Frieda will take the first watch tomorrow. Starting the next day, we’ll resume normal watch rotation. I’m going to have to do a lot of skull sweating, to figure out plans for getting this group up to speed,” Frick said before shrugging. “Not like we have not done this before.”

“Where at before, Captain?” John asked.

“Kansas City, Saint Louis and Memphis. We spent anywhere from two to five weeks in each city, helping the local group achieve some sort of comfort. It’s God’s work we do, and take pride in doing so,” Frick declared, not with a little pride.

Fred grumbled, “Don’t steal my thunder, Frick. I’m the sky pilot, you’re the boat pilot.”

“Right, Fred. Ladies, deacon, until tomorrow morning. We will all need a good rest, for tomorrow serious work and classes begin,” Frick said, stretching a little.

“Can I ask you to bring a bottle of aspirin tomorrow, Captain?” Wilma Gardner, the unicorn mare requested. “I’m sure I’m going to have a hornache tomorrow!”

“We’ll bring a big bottle,” Fred said as he stood and stretched as well. “The winged ones are going to need it, too! Frack is a demanding teacher, but he does get results!”

Author's Note

What to do with a busload of kids? Fortunately, they are a church group, and they are disciplined enough to take orders. There will be issues, but they have time to work them out.

Now, our picture of the week: Fred.

Name: Frederick Einar Halvorsen
Age: 61+
Hometown: Oconee, Nebraska
College: University of Nebraska, class of 1975, B.Sci mechanical engineering
Occupation: Sexton, Saint Isidore's Church, Columbus, Nebraska. (for those who don't know, 'sexton' is an old term for someone who took care of general maintenance of the church and surrounding grounds and buildings)
Personality: Calm, dignified, possessing a lot of what people would call 'common sense'. Seldom raises his voice, because he doesn't need to. His mere presence can invoke order. Does know when to have fun, and can 'play' with Frick and Frack, but is usually the first to call a halt to play and get serious.
Cutie Mark: a branch, with three leaves and three olives, and a tiny black bird on one end, watching.
Notable Talents: Has been gifted by the entity known as Raven to go forth and help unite troubled souls with their proper 'divine match'. To that end, Fred can heal ponies (bones have to be set first, though), speak any pony's native language (when in the presence of the pony), and be a 'calming influence' to those who fall to panic.
Other Notes: Has been married to Frieda for over forty-three years, in a rock-solid relationship that not even the Event could shake. Their devotion to each other stands up to even demonic influences.
Usual Call sign: Cornhusker Two.

Chapter 21: Captain Frick, I caught a BIG one!

“Personal log, stardate 1605.02, 1500 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“It’s been one hell of a week, getting the church group here in Pensacola settled. Some of the children had a parent or siblings along, but some did not. Many of them are not ponies.

“The diamond dogs are all related, the mother Anne, fourteen year old Stan and twelve year old Sue. Two of the three Abyssinians are related, Tobias and Gina Mentone, while the third, Carlo Renteria, does not stray far from the other two. The others, be they hippogriffs, griffons, thestrals and an Ornithian, are having adjustment problems. I have relieved Fred and Frieda from ship duties until we decide to leave, so they can work with the children. The rest of us do one day out of four aboard. We have four kids a day come to the boat for personalized instruction, on a rotating basis, so they can learn from the net. We have computers and such there at the basilica, with data on flash drives, but having a working Internet is a bit different. That’s my project for tomorrow.

“Now that enough wagons are built, there are several scavenging runs per day, with two adults and four to six kids each time, in different directions. I’ve got the unicorns up to using their horns for lights and telekinesis, and two of them can open locks. That helps when scavenging. Less breakage, the better.

“We have not seen much in the way of wildlife yet, which is both good and bad. Nothing hostile, but no deer yet. Then again, we don’t stray far, so missing deer is not surprising. Frack and Frieda are working with the flyers to build stamina and recognition, because seeing the city from the air is a lot different from on hoof! The kids come here to fish off the pier. We all like teaching, and the fish helps our diets.”

Frick was about to say more, but a call came from outside. “Captain Frick! Come out here!”

“Gotta go. Will send later. Frick out.” He closed the recording and went out onto the aft deck, where the kids were fishing on the side away from the pier. The Ornithian child, a bright-green plumaged eleven-year-old parrot hen by name of Elena Onca, was holding onto a fishing pole, the line reeling out. “I got it, Elena,” he said, taking the line and reel in his purple glow.

“Thank you, Captain! That made my arms hurt!” she complained, shaking her arms out into wings, a trick she learned in a video conference with Joaquin, the Ornithian they met in Memphis.

“This IS a tough one! You did right in calling me, Elena!” Frick called out as he worked the line. Suddenly, the line slackened, and a rather annoyed hippogriff surfaced next to the boat, the fish hook sunk into her ear.

The hippogriff pointed to the hook in her ear and said rather crossly in French, “Do you mind? It hurts!”

Frick replied, also in French, “Just hold still, I’ll get it out.” With a few purple flickers, the hook was removed from the hippogriff mare’s ear. “Do you speak English?”

“Your French is better than my English, and you do speak good French, sir.”

“Years of practice, good lady. Now, who are you, where are you from, and what do you know? Care for coffee?” Frick asked.

“Please! Coffee would be good! Been underwater for days!”

“Just change back to your land form, and come aboard!” Frick encouraged.

The hippogriff hesitated, one forehoof on the ladder. “How do I do that?”

Frick sighed. It was going to be one of THOSE days. “Katrina, can you dive in and show our new friend how to switch between forms?” he asked the hippogriff chick that was there.

“Of course, Captain! Watch me, miss!” Katrina called out as she dove in off the pier. She shifted between land and sea forms several times before the visitor caught the trick. Once instructed, the visiting hippogriff changed to land form and scrambled up the ladder.

Once settled in the saloon with a cup of coffee in front of her, the hippogriff told her tale. Her name was Renee Noir, a crewman on a fishing boat that foundered and sank right after returning, because the crew could not control the boat nor themselves. Her English was slow, and it took Frick and one of the children helping her when she could not come up with the English word to get her story out. All she could say was that it had been several days since she had Returned, and just picked a direction and swam until she could find land. “Getting hook in ear is not way for to do introductions!” Renee said with a smile on her face.

“I’m sorry for hooking you, Miss Renee. I didn’t know you were there!” Elena said apologetically.

Renee went to the parrot chick and hugged her close. “Apology I accept. Now, I no alone any more! Maybe with you I stay? You and yours?”

Frick stood up. “That, I can get started on right away. Kids, look after Miss Renee while I call the deacon, okay?”

The eldest of the children there, a thirteen-year-old pink and green unicorn, Josie Wells, answered. “I got it, Captain. Go let the Deacon know, okay?”

Frick smiled at the earnestness of the filly. “Will do!”

He went to the pilothouse and keyed the radio. “Cornhusker Base to Cornhusker Two. You at the church, Fred?”

“Cornhusker Two to Cornhusker Base. Yes, I am. What’s going on?” Fred replied.

“Could you have the Deacon come down to the boat? We found another one, and she will need a place to stay,” Frick told his first officer,

“He heard you, Captain. He’ll be there soon.”

“Good to hear, Fred. I’m sure Miss Noir could do with a good home. Cornhusker Base out.”

“Husker Two clear.”

Frick went back into the saloon. “Will you be willing to sleep dry tonight, Miss Renee?”

“To sleep dry? Have food I not chase? Is close to Heaven, it is!” Renee exclaimed, joy apparent. The kids cheered and gathered around her for a hug of welcome.

“Lady, you don’t know just how close to the truth you are…” Frick muttered.

That night, at six pm, the four ship keepers gathered at the Deliverance for dinner and talk. After dinner is when the watch was relieved. The watchstander has the duty for the day, caring for kids and the ship, while handling maintenance in their area of expertise.

Frack, the oncoming watchstander, held up a piece of fish on a fork held in his wing feathers. “You know, bro, that hippogriff you found today is a real strange one,” he said before eating the fish.

“Why do you say that, bro?” Frick asked.

“Listening to her talk, it’s like she does not know if she’s a boy or a girl. What little she has told of her past, she says ‘he’ about half the time,” Frack reported.

“I noticed that too,” Fran said. “It’s like she swapped genders. I’ve heard of such a thing, but I’ve never seen it before.”

“Befoah ah got sent to North Point, Ah met a few gender-swapped ponies in New Orleans. Foah the most part, the ones ah met didn’t have much issue with it,” Foster observed. “It happened, they is alive, they can’t do anythin’ about it, so they deal with it. Besides, the difference between genders, in most species, ain’t very pronounced. Marie never made a fuss if a he or a she got a job. If you can do it, you do it. Not like there are a lot of folk around to bicker about it, right?”

“Good point, Foster. Didn’t you say you minored in psychology when you got your law degree?” Frick asked.

Foster nodded. “That, and being a lawman fo’ thirty-plus years, you learn about people. Ah’m just glad Rapides Parish didn’t have quite the problems that Baton Rouge or New Orleans did. You learn how to read people and how to get them to do what you want them to do. Most of the time, it works,” he said around a couple of bites of sea-green salad.

“What happens when it doesn’t work, Foster?” Fran asked.

“You spend time in the hospital, or at a funeral. Too many of those,” Foster said in the flattest tones he could manage.

“Sorry to hear that, Foster,” Frack said.

“I’m sorrier to have to say it, Frack. Just the truth, is all. Don’t regret my career choice at all. Fourth generation in civil service. Mah father was chief of the fire department, while ah took over foah mah grandfather as Sheriff,” Foster told the crew. “Ah learned moah from him about handlin’ people than ah learned at college.”

“Fred would say it’s just plain common sense,” Frick said.

“He has. Thing is, ah agree with him.”

That evening, before everypony went to bed, Fred managed to get some time to speak with Renee privately. “Settling in, Miss Renee?” he asked in a kind voice.

“Oui, Mister Fred. After been alone for how so long, different it is to have others near. Objecting not I am, used to have to work on,” Renee managed to say in her rough English.

“Relax, Renee. When I’m near you, I can speak Creole. Speak in that language, if it makes you comfortable,” Fred said in easy Haitian Creole.

“Thank you, Mister Fred. Nobody else here knows Creole.” Renee replied.

“The reason I wanted to speak to you alone can be summed up in one question. You were a man before The Event happened, correct?”

Renee grimaced like she had bitten an especially sour lemon. “Is it that easy to tell?” she asked.

Fred nodded. “Among the Deliverance crew, yes. I do not believe many of the others noticed. It is not unknown for gender change to happen when one Returns. We knew of it from our conversations with the WSU. Foster had met some of the gender-swapped in Louisiana.”

“How have others reacted?” Renee asked.

Fred thought for a moment before replying. “Please understand I have not met anypony who has been gender-swapped before I have met you. I can only report on what I have heard from others, so all of my knowledge of the subject is second-hoof.

“To that end, what I can say is that it all depends on the person who changed. Some are fighting it with all their might, others are soon to bear children, happily mated to somepony they knew before. How do you feel about it?”

Renee looked thoughtful, the feathers around her seagull-like beak twitching. “When I first realized it, I was horrified. In my days after getting clear of the foundering fishing boat, I came to realize that it made not much difference with me. I am still the same Rene Noir up here,” she said, tapping her head with a claw. “The rest of me has changed, yes. I can either live with it, or drown myself. The second option I could not manage, so I chose to go with the first. I will learn to cope, now that I am no longer alone. May I ask, who among the ponies here know, other than your shipmates?”

“Right now, none. I would suggest we get the four adults aside and tell them. The children, they do not need to know yet, true?” Fred replied with a twisted half-grin on his muzzle.

“I agree, Mister Fred. Can you pass the word first to the adults, and they can catch up with me later?” Renee asked.

“I will do so, Miss Renee,” Fred said solemnly. “Now, what did you do on the fishing boat, and what would you like to do in the future?” The pair talked for another hour before lights out, Fred telling Renee more about the WSU, and the eventual plans for rescue, but not for several months.

It took another two weeks before the Pensacola colony (for lack of a better term) began to stabilize. When the earth ponies were not needed for physical strength, the seven (plus Fred) started working on gardens, both east and west of the basilica, on open patches of land. They had the guidance of manuals, one printed and the rest on computer files, with every pony getting a flash drive loaded with instruction manuals sent from the WSU. ‘School’, such as it was, is half the kids in the morning, the other half in the afternoon, with at least one of the Deliverance crew nearby to help any student who needed it. The other half of the kids were out helping scavenge, bring, and set up stuff to make their lives more comfortable.

It was decided that they would remain at the basilica, in the basement. Since rescue will come by the fall, it was decided to just stay together. That way, they can centralize food, water, and electric production in one place. The basement was divided up with at first blankets, then by dividers they found at an office supply store, the five adults getting separate ‘rooms’, the three mothers with their children, and the rest of the kids were divided into boys and girls ‘bunkrooms’, along with a common dining room/kitchen and living area. There was also a ‘guest room’ for the Deliverance crew to stay, when they were not caring for the boat.

Renee fitted in well, becoming a respected advisor to the Pensacola community. She also ‘adopted’ the two hippogriff chicks, Katrina and Aliyah, teaching them about the water side of being a hippogriff, while they taught her how to fly. The three also did the bulk of the fishing for the team, Renee knowing many different ways to prepare fish. Frieda and Frack took ‘lessons’ from Renee, learning about the fish that could be found there, as opposed to what was found in the lakes and rivers of Central Nebraska.

On the twenty-third of May, in the morning, at breakfast, Fred led a prayer service on the anniversary of The Event, praying for those who have not yet Returned, and the safety of those who have already done so. After breakfast, Frick stood to address the crowd.

“Ponies, and assorted others, it’s been just short of a month since we all arrived here in Pensacola. Your gardens are doing well, and you will be harvesting the east field this week. I am taking this time to announce that the Deliverance will continue on our voyage starting this Friday. To that end, Uncle Fred and Aunt Frieda will start moving back aboard, we’ll take our generator back, since you already have how many now?” he said with a smile, echoed by a laugh from his audience. They had found two large-size generators and had them set up in the parking lot, rotating units every couple of days, making sure they had plenty of fuel. Deacon Doyle knew how to service it, along with Toby Mentone and Anne Jones.

“We from the Deliverance are going to now focus the next few days on restocking and topping off on fuel. Know that when rescue does come, and it will, we will do our best to be aboard the ship that will rescue you. To do that, we have to hurry and get to Havana before the Rhine Forest is due to arrive, which is projected to be sometime around the end of August. We have a couple of blue-water stretches that, to be completely honest, has got me worried, even though we did some sailing out of sight of land to get here, but crossing from South Florida to Key West, then Key West to Havana, well…” he waved a hoof as the group laughed again, including himself. “It’s faster to blue-water it than shore-hop.

“Deacon, over to you for the daily chores list,” Frick concluded before sitting down, picking up his coffee mug with his glow and sipping some.

“You’re getting better at speaking, Frick,” Fred said quietly as the deacon started outlining chores to his ‘flock’.

“Practice, Fred. Today, you and Frieda move back to the boat. Frieda, I want you to do a full inventory, one that will be ready tomorrow, so we know what to look for before we leave. Frack, I want you to do a full service on the mains, making sure they are ready before shutting down the generator for maintenance,” Frick said before looking to Foster. “Foster, you and me are going to take our wagon and do a Wal-Mart run. Let’s use the one on Navy Boulevard, it hasn’t been picked through as much as the one on Mobile Highway.”

“Uh, bro, I did that already. Yesterday, in fact, when I had the duty. I had to do SOMEthing, right?” Frack said to his brother.

“Why didn’t you say so, bro?” Frick asked.

“You didn’t show up last night for turnover.”

Frick nodded. “True, I didn’t. Foster, what would you like, pulling the wagon there or back?”

“Ah’ll take the first shift, Captain, since you is askin’.” Frick came to regret that, because pulling an unloaded wagon four miles is a LOT different than hauling a LOADED wagon four miles, but he did not complain. To those on the Deliverance, their word is their bond, especially towards each other.

“Captain’s log, stardate 0/1605.27 0900 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“With heavy hearts, we have left Pensacola in our wake, continuing on our way to that bastion of safety and civilization, Havana, Cuba.” A perfect horse snort followed that statement. “Never thought I would ever be saying that. I remember the Cuban Missile Crisis. I was in grade school, and I remember all the grown-ups I knew being all concerned about ‘that madman in Havana’. My, my, how times change.

“Our destination today is Apalachicola, about a hundred thirty miles as the crow flies from Pensacola. I’m just glad I found me a case of Jolt Cola, which is securely under my bunk. We’re getting more blue-water sail time in, because we’re going to be doing more of it. Get there tonight, spend tomorrow refueling, then Wednesday sprint down to New Port Richey. By chart, it’s about a hundred seventy miles using the short cut in blue water. Higher power running across the sea. I just hope we are not caught out in weather while blue-water hopping. That’s what scares me the most. May the gods smile upon us. Praise the Lord and trust the computer, right?” Frick let out a contented mix of laugh and whinny. “Frick out.” He did the save and send before kicking back in the chair up on the bridge, looking around the wide blue ocean.

He then reached over with his glow to the computer. Calling up the music, he put on the theme from ‘McHale’s Navy’ on repeat for a few minutes as he watched the Deliverance cut through the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. He was content, happy, at peace with himself and the world.

Frick’s reverie was interrupted by a water balloon to the back of his head, soaking his mohawked mane. “Enough with the repeats, Frick!” Frieda yelled from the ladder to the main deck. Quickly, he shut the stereo off.

“Sorry, Frieda. Got lost in peace.”

Author's Note

Another colony set up and running, this one on a temporary basis, because a rescue IS planned in a few months. Next port stop is Tampa/St. Pete, an area I KNEW somewhat well forty-plus years ago.

Our bio for the week- Frieda!

Name: Frieda Haugen Halvorsen
Age: None of your business, buster!
Hometown: Oconee, Nebraska
College: University of Nebraska, Class of 1975, Library Science
Occupation: Chief Librarian, city of Columbus library system.
Personality: Think of that nice, helpful librarian from school who will show you lots of things, but get on her bad side and you'll not only regret it, she'll never forget it! Other than that, she's kind, wise, and happy with her hobbies of handcrafting, cooking, hunting, fishing and sci-fi reading.
Cutie Mark: None. She's a griffon, red-tailed hawk and black panther, with white feathers forming 'spectacles' on her face.
Notable Talents: Very common-sensical, like Fred. As Second Officer and chief cook, she runs the galley with a firm claw and a sharp beak. DON'T get on her bad side!
Other notes: Married to Fred Halvorsen for forty-three years now, and have loved him for longer. The two will not be parted, despite demonic intervention!
Usual Call Sign: Cornhusker Three

Chapter 22: I Got Your Goat

“Ship’s log, stardate 1605.30, 1930 hours, Technical Officer Fran recording.

“Finally made it to our next anchorage, which the maps say is the Anclote Village Marina. Speed run from Apalachicola, which we pulled off quite well indeed. Navigation was spot on, we found the river easily, and tied up with no problem. Tomorrow, we’ll see about refueling, restocking and hunting. There should be some deer about, and it’s been a long while since we had any red meat. Or even some pigs. Don’t remember pork. Eh, we’ll see what happens. Nice thing about late spring, long days to get more done. Time to shut down, kick back and relax. Not to mention raid the galley…”

Fran did the save and send to Rotterdam, then checked that the ship was shut down, moored, and on the generator. “Foster! You ready to relieve me?” she called out.

“Sho’ am, Fran. Glad ah got the shutdown watch tonight. Ah can doze some up here and still be fit fo’ scavenging tomorrow. You heah what Frick plans fo’ tomorrow?” Foster said from the saloon.

“Having Frieda and Frack fly to St. Pete to see if there’s anything worth going there for? I heard. Printed out maps for both of them. Camera’s charging, and I have some sample bags set aside for them. Hope there’s not too much in the way of critters out there,” Fran said after she entered the saloon.

“Aftuh that, you, me and Fred will head to town to see what we can fahnd. About a three-mile walk each way. Ah don’t mahnd the exercise,” Foster said as he filled Fran’s coffee mug. “Frieda’s upstairs fixin’ a fish stew.”

“What, did Frack break it?” Fran laughed as she took the mug.

“I DID NOT!” Frack bellowed from the after deck, where he had the covers off the mains, letting them cool before he did a maintenance check.

“If’n you didn’t, who the hell did?” Foster bellowed back. “The devil in the deep blue sea?”

Frack gestured with a wing at the greenish shallows around them. “He won’t come here! It's not blue here, it’s green!” he shouted back.

“Point to the Chief Engineer, Foster,” Fran said after a sip of coffee.

“Point conceded, Fran. Now, head upstairs and get yourself some stew. Ah’m doin’ some corn fritters here.”

“Just be neat, okay? Remember the last time? Frieda damn near pitched you overboard after you got grease spatters all over the galley!” Fran chuckled as she made her way out of the saloon to the bridge ladder.

Foster grimaced. He didn’t think Frieda could get that loud. Or commanding. Foster recalled he literally got down on his knees and kissed her feet in apology before giving the galley a thorough scrubbing. “That ain’t gonna happen now…” he muttered as he checked his fritter mix before frying.

The next morning, as Frack and Frieda winged their way southeast to Saint Petersburg, Fran, Fred and Foster readied the wagon as Frick monitored the refueling. “You all know what we need. Downtown’s about three miles east. Keep in touch,” were Frick’s orders to the team.

“S.O.P., Frick,” Fred said as he stood in the wagon’s harness, Fran fastening it in place. He made sure his radio was on and in place. When they were ready, the scavenging team headed out, plodding east on Anclote Boulevard. About a mile down the road, they found an open field to the south. There, the trio saw something they had never seen before- a herd of goats grazing in the field.

“Goats? That’s unusual,” Fran said as she looked.

“Not quite as unusual as you would think, Fran,” Foster drawled. “Goat’s pretty good, if made right. Several folk in Rapides Parish raised goats as a sideline. Ah know you been hankerin’ foah venison, but goat meat will do as good as deer meat.”

“Think we should try to bag one on the way back, or let Frieda handle the job?” Fran thought out loud.

“I would suggest letting Maw handle it, but I see no reason not to try, depending on what we find,” Fred said as he pulled the empty wagon.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Fran agreed as she watched the goats graze.

In town, the three raided a Winn-Dixie, finding some good salvage. Fortunately, the windows had been broken in the past year, so the smell inside was tolerable. From there, they looked through a Home Depot for some small parts, like nails, screws, hose clamps, tape and glue. Their last stop was the local pharmacy, and there the three found traces of other raiders.

“Looks like someone’s been picking through the place,” Foster observed after they found the back door lock punched out and the door held shut by a simple bar lock.

“Doing so regularly, too. Whoever it is, he or she’s been doing so for a while,” Fred said as he looked at the drop bar. “At least whoever it is knows how to use tools. That’s good, sturdy work.”

“Let’s see if there’s anything here we can use,” Fran said as she got off the wagon and opened the door. Foster helped Fred unhitch before going in as well.

“Definitely selective raiding. Whoever it is knows exactly what they want, where it is, and how much to take,” Fred declared after a quick inspection of the pharmacy.

“Hope whoevah it is don’t object to ouah snitchin’ some stuff,” Foster said as he picked up several bags of cotton balls in his glow.

“Wonder where the person is. For all we know, we could stay here a week and not find them,” Fran said as she loaded a carry basket with some antacids and a few of the larger first-aid kits, along with two bottles of wintergreen alcohol.

“I hope we can meet up with them. Who knows how long it has been since they heard another voice,” Fred mused as he looked around. He then snorted. “Frick and Frack will be happy. Vanilla Coke and Jolt. There weren't any at Winn-Dixie, but some here. Wonder why.”

“For a happy captain, ah won’t complain, just accept. Frick sure loves his Jolt. Heck, so did ah when ah had a late patrol,” Foster said as he picked up a twelve-pack of each to bring out to the wagon. “Let’s load up.”

“Let’s do it,” Fred said. “After this, let’s see what we can pick up for lunch.”

“Right,” Fran said as she was first out the door. She stopped so suddenly, Foster bumped against her.

Standing next to the wagon was a diamond dog of extremely large stature, like a big bulldog up on two feet. He wore a large pair of shorts, held up with a set of red suspenders. “Morning, people. Welcome to this part of Tarpon Springs. I’m Will Sutton. Who are you all?” the brindle bulldog asked.

Fred pushed his way forward. “Hello, Mister Sutton. I’m Fred Halvorsen, First Officer of the trawler Deliverance, out of Fremont, Nebraska. With me are the ship’s Technical officer, Fran Vasquez,” as Fran gave a little wave, “and Security Officer Foster Hardegan, from Rapides Parish, Louisiana.” Foster nodded at the large diamond dog. “Hope you don’t mind the raiding. Best way to resupply,” Fred explained.

Will waved a paw to signal that it didn’t matter. “Not to worry. Right now, a man can only defend what he can watch over personally. What I or my partner can defend, it’s not up here. Saw you folk walking down the boulevard. Folk aren’t common here, wagons less so. Been shadowing you since the Winn-Dixie. How long you plan on staying?” he asked politely.

“Several days, at least. Captain’s at the village marina refueling the ship, while our two winged ones are heading to Saint Petersburg to check out something there,” Fred explained.

“Refueling? All the fuel’s gone bad. Won’t do you any good!” Will said, surprised anyone would do something that foolish.

Fred smiled. “Not if you know how to strain out all the bad parts and add some booster. It’s not all that hard to do. Gasoline or diesel makes little difference. Just make sure you use different pumps for each,” he told the startled dog.

“How do you do it?” Will asked, still a little shook by the revelation.

Foster held up the bags of cotton balls in his glow. “Y’all start with cotton lakh this, put it in a thick knee-length cotton sock, put the sock in a big enough pipe, then pump dirty fuel in one end and clean fuel out the other. We have an apparatus set up at the village marina. Want to come on over for some coffee and lunch?” he asked.

“Throw some conversation into the mix and I’ll say ‘hell, yes’ to that! Let me ride home and get my partner. She would be interested, too.” Will said with some excitement.

“Who is she, if I may ask?” Fred asked.

“Sue Butler. She’s a horse, like you are, Mister Fred. She I found wandering about a month after I woke up like this. We didn’t want to be alone, so she stays with me. I have a tent and campground set up, and when the weather gets nasty, we head inside a house until it blows over. Been working for a long time already.”

“Well, I just have to ask, will the Captain approve of visitors for lunch?” Fred asked in a loud voice.

“Damn straight the Captain approves! I’ll set up the coffee pot and break out some smoked fish. By the time you get here, the porridge should be about done!” Frick said from Fran’s radio. “Come on over and feel welcome, Mister Sutton! Sure, bring Miss Butler as well! Meeting others makes this trip bearable! Let me get cracking. Cornhusker One out.” The three from the boat all smothered snickers, with varying degrees of success, at Will’s startled reaction to the voice coming from the radio.

“Cornhusker Two clear.” Fred said seemingly into empty air. “You know where the village marina is, Will?”

“Sure do! Want me to bring some goat meat and milk?” he asked.

The three people literally stopped dead in their tracks and stared at Will. “Fresh milk?” Foster asked.

“Fresh meat?” asked Fran.

“Oh, yeah! Milked the goats this morning and I butchered one last night. Still fresh!” Will said with pride.

“Then, bring it! The Captain’s expecting you, and we should be there within an hour. How do you get around?” Fred asked.

Will ducked around the corner of the building and came back riding one of those huge tricycles retirees in Florida use for getting around the trailer parks. “On this. Gets the job done.”
On the handlebars were mounted a large horn, a bell and a big flashlight, crudely fastened with tape and hose clamps.

“Well, that works,” Foster observed as he helped Fred get hitched up. “See you and your friend at the boat?”

“Sounds like a plan! At last, company!” Will said with a happy laugh as he pedaled away from the pharmacy, heading south.

“Let’s head home, people,” Fred said as Foster fastened the last Velcro strap.

At the Deliverance, Frick had everything set up for company- spare coffeepot brewing, large pot of porridge at the ready, upstairs ready to fix goat. That was going to be Fran’s job. She wants goat, she can cook it herself!

The working party was first to arrive, but only by twenty minutes. Before the load was completely stowed, the visitors came up from the south, Will on his tricycle with a pink and yellow earth pony mare trotting alongside. After greetings and introductions, Will and Fran went up to cook the goat meat he had brought, while the three stallions sat with the mare downstairs, sipping coffee with goat’s milk (all privately thought it was better with the powdered milk, but didn’t say anything) getting her story.

She had Returned at her home ‘on a day that was cold and wet’ she recalled. She stayed home for days before hunger drove her forth to find food. Quickly, she had found the herd of goats, and watched them browsing before getting surprised by Will. They had known of each other ‘when we were people’, but were no more than nodding acquaintances. She was twenty, taking a break from college to stay with her grandparents, who needed some additional care, which she provided for room, board and a small stipend. Sue was describing how much she cared for her grandparents when the ship’s phone rang.

“Pardon me,” Frick said, getting up. Looking into the pilothouse, he levitated the phone handset to him. “Cornhusker Base, unit calling go ahead.”

“Base, this is Cornhusker Three. We’ve found Sunken Gardens, and it’s a treasure trove, like that garden in Kansas City! No breezies in attendance, but so far no hostile animal life. We’ll be heading back in an hour or so, after we let our wings rest a while. What’s news up there?” Frieda asked.

“Oh, not a whole lot, just chatting with the neighbors while Fran is upstairs preparing some goat meat that they so kindly brought, is all,” Frick said in as bland a voice as he could manage.

Dead silence reigned on the phone for a good half minute before Frieda spoke again. “You had better not be joking there, Frick!” she squawked.

“He’s not, Maw!” Fred said forcefully.

Again, silence for a good half minute. “We’re going to grab some plant samples, then start getting back. Good thing Frack’s a spot-on navigator! Cornhusker Three out!” she said before hanging up.

“Cornhusker Base out,” Frick said quietly before putting the ship phone handset on the saloon table.

“Cornhusker? You went to Nebraska?” Sue asked, sounding confused.

“All the crew but me, Miz Sue,” Foster said. “Ah joined later. Ah went to a podunk community college in Louisiana. They all have a Cornhusker call sahn, ah go by Pelican Six. What college you go to? Ah don’t believe y’all said wheah.”

“University of South Florida, in Tampa. I took a semester break, doing a few classes remotely while I cared for my grandparents here. Then, this happened and I became a horse, with my grandparents vanishing. Just what happened?” Sue said, nearly pleading.

Fred got up from his spot and moved to where he could sit beside the going-distraught mare. Wrapping a foreleg around hers, he just said in a calm voice, “Easy there, Sue. What happened to you happened to everyone all over the planet. Later on, when we’re all together, we’ll tell the whole story. You have a life to look forward to, and it does not have to be here. Just take a breath or two and relax. Breathe, okay?”

Sue nodded, breathing, calming down under Fred’s gentle influence. “Thank you, Fred. I needed that. I can wait until everyone gets here before telling stories. May I have a Coke, please?” she asked.

“Vanilla do you?” Frick asked as he opened the (admittedly very small) refrigerator.

“Works for me!” Sue said as she caught the can that headed for her. Fred showed her how to open it without spilling. “Haven’t had one since I came back. They don’t taste right warm.”

“Just what have you been living on, Sue?” Foster asked. “Ah know you don’t eat goat meat.”

“I graze most of the time,” Sue said. “There’s a place not far from camp that has a nice variety of tasty plants and some root vegetables, probably a left-behind garden. Plus, water from the bay, or collected rain, or something Will and I find while out scavenging.”

“Just where do you go to scavenge?” Fred asked. “Up north, the only place raided was the drugstore. The Winn-Dixie looked untouched.”

“We go farther south. We have canoes and rowboats, so we paddle down to the end of the bay. From there, it’s a short hike to Wal-Mart or Winn-Dixie. Why did you moor all the way up here?” Sue asked in return.

“After the run here from Apalachicola, this is the first marina we saw. It has fuel, so why look further?” Frick countered.

“Good point. What’s it like to sail over the ocean in this?” Sue asked, waving a hoof around. “I may live here in Florida, but I was never much for water activities. I like my gardening. It’s been a lot easier now than before.”

“That’s the magic of an earth pony, Sue,” Fred told her. “We have a way with plants, with the earth, with nature. We have books you can read that will teach you what you need to know about being a pony in general and earth ponies in particular.”

Sue sighed after drinking half the cold can of Coke. “Reading. Sounds like this whole thing was planned.”

“It was,” Frick said. “News at eleven on News Watch Seven.”

Sue actually smiled. “Down here, it’s news at eleven on Fox Thirteen,” she said.

“Back home, it’s news at Six on Six,” Foster said before some coffee.

By the time Frack and Freida returned from their flight, the goat steaks were thoroughly cooked through, a card table unfolded and placed at the end of the saloon table, and the eight sat down for a convivial dinner. Goat for the carnivores, mashed potatoes, rolls, porridge and a selection of jams and jellies to spread on the bread.

“One thing we noticed both ways are sinkholes. Big ones, scattered about. Wreckage and debris in almost all of them,” Frack mentioned while they ate.

Will nodded in agreement. “One opened up just this last week, down on Mango Street. It’s big enough to spread to the trailer parks on both sides of the road. Water on the bottom, too,” he told the group.

“How big is it? About fifty yards wide?” Frack asked.

“About that. Why do you ask?” Will countered.

Frieda spoke up. “Every sinkhole we flew over is about fifty yards wide, scattered between here and Saint Petersburg. Each one a few miles apart. Don’t think there’s much of a pattern. Could be wrong, though. We were more focused on our mission.”

“Sinkholes happen here in Florida, but so many here in Pinellas County?” Sue asked, confused. “That can’t be right.”

“It’s what we saw, Sue,” Frack replied. “Some buildings downtown have collapsed into the sinkholes, other places houses.”

“Why do I get the feeling that these sinkholes are not just random happenings?” Will said rhetorically.

“You may be right. I’ll ask Old Birdbrain tonight and see if he knows anything,” Fred said around a spoonful of porridge.

“Old Birdbrain?” Sue asked. That question led to an hour’s explanation about Fred’s meeting with Raven, Kolopin, and a couple of others.

“What about God?” Will asked.

“Not back yet, and when he does, his center of power will more than likely be the Middle East. Looks like this caught him with his divine britches down. If and when he gets here, I know I can look him in the face and ask, ‘what took you so long’?” Fred replied calmly.

“You seem rather blase about it, Fred. How can that be?” Will asked.

“I’m still following His word, and living by His laws. Not my fault he’s late for the party.”

Author's Note

Not feeling too well this past week, so if the chapter seems a bit off, that's why. Going to see a cardiologist in a couple of hours. Hopefully I'll find out what and why.

Will not be posting next week, going to Las Vegas Monday, coming back Friday, IF Southwest Airlines is up to speed. Going to see a friend I have not seen since 2016.

Now, this week's picture, Frack!

Name: Frankland Wilhelm Larsen
Age: 56+
Hometown: Oconee, Nebraska
College: University of Nebraska, class of 1980, B. Sci. Mechanical Engineering
Occupation: Mechanic, Can-Do auto repair, Oconee, NE
Personality: Very outgoing, cheerful, almost always in motion. Returning as a pegasus, with four hooves, is a miracle to him. Before, his left foot had to be amputated when he was 14 after an accident on his bicycle. Mane and tail always disarrayed, because the wind will blow it out of shape, anyway...
Cutie Mark: Black rooster weather vane in a black circle. Can predict weather with better-than-average accuracy. Not perfect, however.
Other notes: Regards the Deliverance as his own toy. Takes meticulous care of the engines, because he does not want to tear into the big Cummins Diesels unless he HAS to.
Usual Call Sign: Cornhusker Four

Chapter 23: Holes, Balls and Falls

“Ship’s log, stardate 1606.01, 0800 hours. First Officer Fred recording.

“Yesterday was quite interesting, what with finding some new neighbors here in Tarpon Springs. Our plans for the day are rather simple. Maw is going with Will to butcher and smoke several goats, as well as milk what nannies they can. Maw studied about how to process the milk so it doesn’t have such a bad taste to it, so she’s going to see if she can clean and bottle some, to put in the bridge cooler and keep. Frick, Foster, Fran and Sue are going to take the wagon to Wal-Mart and Lowe’s, first to get parts to build a wagon for them, and then get some additional supplies so they could plug in to what’s left of the Internet. Good thing we know how to set up a rig to get it off satellite. That and a generator and twenty gallons of gas, along with stuff to make a purifier.

“Frack has a more interesting job to do. He’s going to go flying, and attempt to map the sinkholes that have appeared in these parts. We don’t know when many of them happened, but we can find out where they all are. Maybe there’s a pattern. Have not heard back from Old Birdbrain, but I’m not surprised. He probably has a big inbox to sift through.

“I got the duty here today, which means completing the fueling, cleaning up, and scanning in pictures of the samples Maw got from Sunken Gardens. Some of the medicinals I’m familiar with, others not. That’s what the folk back at the Admiralty can do for us. Their information base is broader than ours. That way, they can tell us what to pick up when we head for Saint Pete later on in the week.

“That’s all the news that is news at the moment. Until our next report. Deliverance out.”

Fred saved and sent the log before starting the fueling pumps. A lot was done yesterday, but topping off always helps, including the two auxiliary barrels. Then, cleaning time in the saloon and galley. Maw can do the bridge. She wants meat, she can care for it! Cooking goat smells something horrible!

The away team dropped Fran off at the Wal-Mart to hunt up what was needed to make a communications station for the locals, while the rest went to the Lowe’s to get the lumber and tarps to build a wagon with, not forgetting the waterproofing.

“I know Will is interested in being picked up and brought to a better colony in the fall, but what about you, Sue? What do you think?” Frick asked as he held a plank down for Foster to cut into the right lengths for making the new wagon.

“I can say for sure that I do not want to be alone, Frick. Will is a good person to know, but meeting others and finding a place I can fit into is good, too. I don’t know about going to sea, but settling somewhere else will be good. Just have to decide where,” Sue explained.

“You have several options, Sue. Havana, Belfast, or Rotterdam are the primary options, while Savannah, Jacksonville and Mexico are alternates, depending on the ship route after pickup,” Frick told her. “That’s something we won’t know for a while yet.”

“Do they speak English in Rotterdam?” Sue asked. “I don’t know any Spanish or Dutch.”

“Most everyone in Rotterdam speaks English, either as a first or second language. The signage may be in Dutch, but I’m sure you can learn at least what you need to know to get around. What will you do when we get there?” Frick asked, taking the cut boards in his glow and bringing them to the wagon.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I was studying botany at USF. Three semesters in, then I took time off to care for my grandparents. Whatever I find that I can do, and whatever they need to get done. If I have to learn something new, then I will. Better than being alone,” Sue concluded with a sigh.

“We know about that,” Frick said before telling the story of Caleb and Landry while they gathered varnish and waterproofing.

“They walked past here last year?” Sue said, amazed.

“Not as close as you think. They went up I-75 past here to the I-10 to go to New Orleans. They were given a radio so they could listen to the WSU broadcasts. When they heard about us from the WSU, they headed out from their home in Louisiana to meet up with us, canoeing up the river for a while before hiking to Natchez. They camped there for a time before going to meet us in Vicksburg. Now, they’re all in Memphis, and should be heading out for Saint Louis in the near future,” Frick explained on his way out to deposit the varnishes, polyurethane, brushes and such into the wagon. Foster got the fasteners and wheels, while Frick had dropped off the tarps and straps they would need for the harness and frame. This wagon is not going to fold up for storing.

“Caleb’s an earth pony, like me, right?” Sue asked.

“That he is. Earth ponies are strong, tough, durable, stolid, and have a way with plants and the land. They can sense what’s right and wrong with plants and animals. So the books say, anyway,” Frick said. “Fred has a way of warding off dogs that’s downright impressive.”

“What’s right and what’s wrong? How can I learn that?” Sue asked, more than a little overwhelmed.

Foster spoke up. “Fred says it’s pretty much instinctive. It’s lakh Frick and I with ouah magic. If you ain’t a unicorn, it’s just not possible how to explain how we do ouah magic stuff. We don’t know HOW it works, we know we can MAKE it work and leave it at that.”

“I can accept that,” Sue said after a little thought. “Will I have a chance to learn more of what an earth pony can do?”

“What Fred can’t teach you now, or what you can’t learn from study, you will be able to learn when you get to where you decide to go. I’m looking forward to learning more spells,” Frick said with a little eagerness.

“Me, too,” Foster said. “Once we figure out the basics, lakh telekinesis and light, we can go up from theah. Ah can do somethin’ with small rocks that makes them act lakh bullets out of a gun, an’ ah can throw a lariat-type spell that can tie another down at range. Thing is, ah can’t quite explain it to Frick. Ah can do it, but he can’t.”

“While I can fire a magic bolt of rather high power. I managed to blow part of an obstructing bridge to gravel at a distance of about two hundred yards, and put a bolt through the head of something threatening the boat off the coast of Louisiana,” Frick told Sue.

“Yeah, and crashed out for a good fifteen hours after each tahm,” Foster said in rebuttal, with more than a little dry wit showing as they went back into the Lowe’s for a generator and some more fasteners.

“Everything demands a price, Foster. If taking a long nap after a blast is mine, I can live with that.”

“Frick, can I borrow your radio? I want to call Fred. Something does not feel quite right, and I want to ask another earth pony’s opinion,” Sue asked, an expression on her face that brought concern to the unicorn’s faces.

Frick took the radio from his neck and looped the lanyard around Sue’s. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know. If Fred feels something, then we’ll have a better idea,” Sue said as she made her way outside. Frick and Foster looked at each other, shrugged, then went back to scavenging.

Outside, Sue found a shady spot, sat down, and checked the radio over before keying the mic. “Tarpon Two to Cornhusker Two, do you read?” she called, anxiety evident in her voice.

After a moment, Fred’s voice came over the radio, as calming as a warm blanket in winter. “Cornhusker Two. Go ahead, Tarpon Two.”

“Cornhusker Two, do you feel anything strange to the south? I do, and it’s making me edgy. It’s not right,” she reported.

“Let me get outside and onto the ground. I’m on the boat. Stand by,” Fred called back. About two minutes later, he spoke again. “You’re right, Sue. There is something down south that is not quite right. Feels like a dozen dozen grubs boring through my flesh, making me feel like I’m a giant Alka-Seltzer.”

“Those are the words I was looking for! Like something’s fizzing through me! It feels southwest of me. I say that because it’s the direction I both want to flee from and run to,” Sue reported.

“It feels more southeast of me. Let me go back aboard and check a map. Maybe I can figure out where to look. How goes the salvage?” Fred asked, more to keep Sue calm than anything else.

“We’ve got the parts needed for another wagon. They’re loaded in the wagon we have, then we’ll go to the Wal-Mart and see what Fran has managed to find to get some sort of base station built for us. Then, it’s back to the big rowboat. Nice thing about unicorns is that it’s easier to row the boat that way!” Sue said with a little giggle.

“Does it feel any different to you now, Sue?” Fred asked.

“No, still fizzy, off to the southwest. From where I’m sitting south of the Lowe’s, the line runs BEHIND the Wal-Mart and out. Does that help any?”

“Yes, it does. With your line and my line, they intersect south of the bayou, in a blank spot on the map. BUT, here’s something curious. It’s about a mile or two due west of that sinkhole Will told us about. Hang on and let me call Frack and Frieda to have them look. Stay calm, Sue. I’ll tell you when to worry.” Fred said calmly.

“Okay, Fred. I will,” Sue said before letting the radio hang from the lanyard around her neck, just breathing, looking for calm despite that funny fizzy sensation.

“Husker Two to Husker Four. Where you at, Frack?” Fred called.

“Down by the south end of Lake Tarpon. Finding big sinkholes here and there. Want me to head up to check the place you talking about?” Frack asked.

“Yep. South end of the bay we’re moored at. Maw, can you break off what you’re doing and check it out as well? I think you’ll get there first.” Fred said.

“Let me make sure this goat is secure on the hooks in the smoking tent. Will will prep another and get it hung. Tomorrow will be soon enough for Frick to come up here and smoke them proper,” Frieda called in.

“The race is on, Frieda!” Frack laughed.

“You’re in for it, Frack!”

Frack met Frieda at the target site, losing the race because of the fact he had twice as far to go as she did, despite his speed advantage. They circled the field because looking down, a ring of ground about fifty yards in diameter, give or take some, was literally fizzing like an Alka-Seltzer.

“What in hell is going on down there?” Frack said as they watched.

“Why am I afraid that you’re more correct than you think?” Frieda said as the circle of ground dissolved.

“I hate it when I’m right,” Frack muttered before looking up. “You know, I don’t mind being wrong sometimes!” he shouted to the heavens.

“Frack, call this in. I’m taping this. Let’s move clear,” Frieda said in a commanding voice as a vapor started rising from the dissolving earth, which slumped into a sinkhole. A sinkhole that, when the vapors cleared, showed a horde of wriggling worms, which strongly resembled maggots, but far larger.

“Ho-lee…” Frack breathed as he fumbled for his radio.

“Tarpon Two to Cornhusker Two! I just hurked up yesterday’s dinner!” Sue called.

“I can feel something bad too, Tarpon. I’m in the boat, but I can feel something vile going on,” Fred replied.

“Got that right!” Frack called out as he and Frieda circled the sinkhole. “Maggots the size of rattlesnakes literally eating the ground all the way down to the water table!”

“Keep a watch on it while it works. I want to know what happens next,” Fred ordered over the radio.

“Cornhusker Three and Four copies orders,” Frack said as they watched.

It took about fifteen minutes for the dissolving action to stop, revealing something floating on the water, the maggots dissolving as they fell into the hole. A quick flyby showed hundreds, if not thousands, of softball-sized objects drifting on the water’s surface. “That’s damn unusual,” Frieda said.

“Got that right. What are they, ground maggots? What are they going to do, hatch into pony-sized flies?” Frack asked.

“Can’t say,” Frieda said as she filmed a video with her phone. “Why don’t you head east and check out the other sinkhole? See what’s in there.”

Frack shrugged. “Can’t hurt to look,” he said before taking wing. At the other hole, he found a lot of wreckage from mobile homes that had fallen in, but no floating softballs. A closer inspection just showed more wreckage, although some of the wood and metal pieces appeared… chewed, for lack of a better term. He also found small holes in the side of the sinkhole, holes about two inches in diameter, but there were hundreds, each about a foot apart, with trails leading to the higher ones. Once he saw enough, he flew back to Frieda.

“I get this strange feeling they are more ground maggots than anything else,” he told his friend.

“Oh, spiffing!” Frieda groaned. “Not something we needed, for sure!”

“No, it’s not. Wonder what’s going to happen next. If those are really eggs, I’m not sure if I want to see what hatches out of them,” Frack said quietly.

“Nor I. Doubt I can make an edible omelet with them, either,” Frieda said with a shrug. “I’ll go back to smoking goat. You going to help Frick?”

“Not a bad idea. Head northeast from here and I should find it. I’ll see if I can raid some stuff from the Wal-Mart for a big spaghetti dinner tonight, with garlic bread spread,” Frack suggested.

“Not a bad idea. Especially with chipped goat crumbles in the sauce, or some of it. I’ll make that pot of sauce upstairs.”

“Good idea!” Frack said as he took wing to the northeast, while Frieda headed northwest, using the bay shore to guide her home. Yes, they use VFR, because minds and instincts do tend to battle, even six months after getting the flight capability.

By the fifth of June, the crew had finished doing what they could for the two Tarpon Springs residents. The wagon was completed, along with an adapter that would allow Will’s tricycle to hook up to the wagon and pull it along, if needed. “Not good for over ground, but it will help on the roads,” Will observed after a test pull.

A generator and battery bank was set up next to the house the two sheltered in when the weather was not right for the tents, with a computer system, satellite dish, and three satellite phones charging, as well as three radios. “After all, we could find someone else, right?” Sue commented.

“I suggest you two shelter in the house next couple of days,” Frack said as the ship was getting ready to depart about noon. “There will be a storm here in the next day or two, and we want to get to Saint Pete before the worst of it gets here.”

“How bad will it be, Frack?” Will asked.

“Bad enough. I want to say hurricane, but if so, it won’t be a big hurricane. Just fairly nearby. Wonder what it will do to the eggs in the sinkhole,” Frack said as he untied the lines holding the Deliverance in place.

“We’ll take a look after the storm passes. Thanks again for all you’ve done for us. See you again in a few months, hopefully?” Will said, holding out a beefy paw, which Frack shook with warmth. The group had already said goodbye over an early lunch.

“That’s the plan. See you then!” Frack said, giving Sue a wing hug before taking off to land on the boat. Frick waved from the bridge as he piloted the boat out to the Gulf.

They made the run down the west coast of the peninsula at about three-quarters full power, the swells gradually intensifying as the cloud cover slowly thickened. The Sunshine Skyway Bridge looked intact as they passed under it, despite having stood with no maintenance for a year now.

Shortly after six, with Frieda at the conn, they neared their destination, Saint Petersburg’s North Yacht Basin. They chose there because it was the closest pier to Sunken Gardens. The weather was definitely getting nasty, a fresh breeze from the southwest. They hurried to get to this part of the city because then there would be land between the storm and their mooring point, lessening wave impact.

As they searched for a safe place to moor among the wreckage of yachts and houseboats at the marina, a bright flash caught their attention. A white pickup truck appeared along the road that ran along the bay shore, one that swiftly lost control, jumped the curb and hurtled into the water with a loud splash.

Frieda immediately headed that way, everyone else having heard the splash or the screech. Foster took charge of the scene. He’s handled many a wreck before, as sheriff of Rapides Parish, Louisiana. “Fran, relieve Frieda! Frieda, Frack, get first aid gear to shore! Frick, with me! We’s gonna get that out of the water and onto the shore!” he commanded, certainty and surety in his voice.

Everyone turned to, Fran going to the pilothouse, Frieda taking the first aid kit from the bridge before taking wing from there, Frack took the first aid kit from the saloon, while Frick joined Foster on the after deck. The truck was visible under the water, bubbles coming from it as it filled and sank, the driver looking senseless behind the wheel.

Together, Frick’s purple glow and Foster’s golden glow surrounded the truck, lifted it, and set it on the shore. “Foster, put me next to the truck! Let’s get the driver out!” Frick ordered.

“Good idea, Frick. You is a smaller one. Up yuh go!” Foster grunted as he wrapped Frick in his glow and picked him up, putting him down by the passenger side of the truck.

Author's Note

Well, another trip done and dusted. Met an old friend, had a decent time, and the TSA broke my tablet. Spent $161 for another, plus a memory addition. That should be here next week.

Now, for this week's pic- Fran!

Name: Francesca Anita Vasquez
Age: 24
Hometown: Fremont, NE
College: University of Nebraska, class of 2012, B. Sci. Computer Sciences
Occupation: University of Nebraska Admin department, I.T. engineer.
Personality: Quiet, watchful, but don't let that fool you. She can pounce like a cat would, but with weapons. She can be savage when she feels like it.
Notable talents: Has the Abyssinian trait of foreknowledge, it manifesting as an enhanced flight reflex, knowing where to go to or where to flee from. Act now, ask later. It's part of what she is.
Note: Goes along with the Deliverance's crew radio games, but is not a real enthusiastic participant. Her sci-fi fandom is not as dated as theirs.
Call sign: Cornhusker Five

Chapter 24: Dude(tte) Drop In

Bernard (Bernie) Verstappen was behind the wheel of his battered-looking, but very sound 2002 Chevy S-10 pickup, its bed filled with his welding gear and other sundry stuff, the cap sealed tight against the early-morning drizzle. He was heading north on Bayshore Drive at six-fourteen a.m. this not-fine Saturday morning, May the 23rd, two thousand fifteen, to handle a welding job that had come up at the Vinoy Park Condos. He would normally just hang up the phone when it rings at five in the morning, but when his friend said ‘a thousand dollars for a thirty-minute job, in cash’, it got his attention, so he got up, got dressed, checked his truck and headed to the job from his ratty little house in South Saint Petersburg.

He was sipping from a cup of coffee he had picked up from the Circle K near his house (having already finished the doughnuts) when everything lit up in a brilliant white flash of light. He yelped in surprise as he lost his grip on the coffee cup and it fell into his lap, leaking hot coffee, which caused him to screech even louder. The light became intolerably bright as he went to stomp on the brakes, but instead hit the gas. His hand would not grip the wheel as he felt the truck lurch from hitting the curb, then overtopping it. The last thing he remembered was something fighting him from getting the seat belt off as the truck entered the water of Tampa Bay.

Coincidentally, less than a hundred yards away, the Deliverance was making its way through the yacht club, looking for an empty slip to tie up at. Second Officer Frieda was at the conn up on the bridge, using her vantage point to look down into the surprisingly clear water, at the hulks that littered the yacht club. The wind was high, a storm approaching somewhere off to the west. The place was pretty full, but after a year of vacancy, a lot of the ships were just wreckage, in some places pulling the pier down. A flash caught her attention from her left, as a pickup truck suddenly appeared on the street that ran alongside the bay, a white pickup truck that veered right, raced up and over the sidewalk and grassy strip, past the edge and into the water very close to the Deliverance.

Quickly, Frieda shut down the engines. “Foster! Need you on the port side! Now!” she called out.

Foster Hardegan, a white unicorn with a gold mane and tail, was in the saloon, and had seen the whole scene play out through a window. Foster went outside, Frick right behind him.

“Let’s get that truck out of the water! Working together, we can put it on shore!” Frick shouted.

“Got that raht, Frick!” Foster said. Together, they reached out with their magic auras coming from their horns, Frick’s vibrant purple and Foster’s shining gold, to grasp the truck and heave.

The truck tore free from the muddy bottom of the bay and settled on the bank, the combined glows fading as water spilled out from the doors and bed. They could see some movement in the cab. “Foster, put me there, then pull the boat alongside!” Frick ordered.

“Raht, Cap’n!” Foster said, wrapping his gold glow around Frick’s smaller gray-furred frame, picking him up off the deck, then across, putting him down near the passenger door. By this time, the rest of the crew were alerted. Freida grabbed her EMT bag and sprung to shore from the bridge, spreading her griffon wings just enough to help. Frack, the red and gray pegasus, took off from the starboard side, circling the truck before landing on the driver’s side. Fran raced to the pilothouse from the galley, to take over.

Frick got the passenger door open, none too gently, and looked inside. He saw a small thestral in the driver’s seat, dark blue fur with a silvery mane, darker blue leathery wings tangled in the seat belt. He found the seat belt latch and pushed it as Frack got the driver’s door open.

The thestral fell out, Frack catching her in his wings, holding her while Freida came over to disentangle the wings by the simple expedient of using a scalpel from her bag to slice the belt to pieces. Once that was done, Frack laid her out on the grass. Frieda then used heavy shears to cut the shirt off so the wings could be laid out properly. “Is the driver alive?” Frick asked.

“Yes, she is. We got to her in time. She’s wet, but didn’t aspirate any water. Let’s get her aboard, dry her out and let Paw look at her,” Freida declared.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Frick said, bowing to the judgment of his Medical Officer.

Bernie woke up some time later, to find himself dry, in a warm bed, with a sheet over him. There was a light on to his right, otherwise, the room was dark. He heard a page turn off to his right, so he rolled over to look. The act of rolling over felt very strange to him, his arms and legs flopping around more than he would expect. “About time you woke up, young lady,” a voice came from about where the page turned. “It’s been over nine hours.”

“Not a girl, I’m a guy,” Bernie muttered. His voice was not how he remembered it to be, much higher in pitch.

“Let me turn the lights on, and you’ll see for yourself who is correct,” the voice said. The lights came up, and Bernie saw he was talking to a blue horse with a black mane and a warm, welcoming expression on its face. “I’m Fred Halvorsen, of Oconee, Nebraska, First Mate of the Deliverance. How are you feeling, Miz Verstappen?”

Bernie was not exactly listening, because when the lights came on, he looked at the blue horse blankly before turning his gaze on himself. Yes, he was a horse, too, a royal-blue horse with navy-blue leathery wings like a bat, and a light and dark striped silver-gray mane and tail that caught the light and shimmered. He lay on the bed for a moment or so, allowing the data to percolate through his numbed mind into his core intelligence, staring at Fred.

“A horse is a horse, of course, of course,” Fred sang. With a smile, he went from singing to speaking. “Yes, I’m a pony. So are you. So are a lot of other people on God’s green earth.”

Dazed, he risked a quick peek between his legs. Not believing what he saw, he worked up the courage to look again. The glance, to his shock and horror, revealed that Fred was right and she was wrong. “I’m a girl!” she squeaked in surprise, the pitch a lot higher on the last word.

“That you are. It’s known to happen. I can tell you the story of how this came to be, but would you like something first? Coffee, Coke, tea, bathroom trip?” Fred asked.

The last words triggered an awareness in him that he was trying to ignore. “Bathroom trip!” Bernie agreed quickly. “After that, coffee! But first, how do I get up?” Bernie asked.

“Just roll over to your right and let your hooves touch the floor. After that, when you’re ready, shift your weight from the bed to your hooves. Just take it easy. Or, you can take the faster route,” Fred suggested calmly.

“What’s that?” Bernie asked, clenching her bladder shut.

“Trust your instincts, don’t think, just go for it!” Fred said, clearing the path to the bathroom door. That worked, Bernie rolling off the bed and taking the four steps needed to get to the head. Rearing and pivoting, she managed to do her business, Fred politely not looking in that direction, a gesture Bernie appreciated.

Once relieved, Bernie stepped out from the head. “You mentioned coffee?” she asked.

“I’ll get some. How do you like it?” Fred asked.

“Cream and sugar, if you got it,” was the quick reply.

“We have powdered creamer, reconstituted powdered milk, or real goat’s milk. I suggest you avoid the goat’s milk, unless you had it before.”

“Powdered creamer and sugar, please,” Bernie requested.

“Okay. You can wait down here, or you can come up and we can let Maw have the bed. It is three in the morning, and there’s a storm bearing down on us,” Fred said quietly.

“Maw?” Bernie asked, his mind going numb again.

“My wife, Frieda. We have been married forty-three years. She turned into a griffin, while I became an earth pony. You can wait down here and practice putting one hoof after another while I go up and get the coffee. Shouldn’t be a couple of minutes, if Maw didn’t hide the trays again…” Fred muttered as he got past Bernie and headed up the stairs.

Once Fred went up the steps, Bernie wasted no time in looking herself over, from nose to tail. Royal blue fur, navy blue leathery wings, silvery mane and tail. Definitely NOT the body he woke up with at five in the morning. She shivered some before looking in the mirror that hung in the head. The head of a horse, a small horse, with fangs among her teeth and tufts on her eartips, with bright gold eyes. She had to admire the flexibility of the body, which was a lot more than he had as a fortyish man, but how could she hold a coffee cup with her hoof?

As Bernie continued her self-inspection, one of the doors in the bulkhead opened, to reveal a white horse about the same size as Fred is, with golden-yellow mane and tail hairs as well as a golden horn protruding from his brow. A gold glow came from the horn and operated another door in the bulkhead, revealing that room to be a second bathroom. The white unicorn stumbled in and shut the door behind him. “My, he looked wide awake…” Bernie muttered as she resumed her self-inspection.

“Foster can wake up fast if he needs to, but he prefers to take his time. He goes on watch in forty minutes,” Fred said from the stairs, holding a tray flat on one leg, said leg being turned in what HAD to be an uncomfortable direction, moving on his other three legs like it was perfectly normal, two steaming cups of coffee on the tray, along with some biscuits and margarine. He put the tray down on the bed, sliding it into place without upsetting the coffee.

“Howinhell did you manage that?” Bernie asked, her mind perilously close to blowing several fuses, two circuit breakers and a central processing unit.

“Just something you learn. I’ve had almost six months to practice,” Fred said before going into an explanation of ‘how to use your forehooves to pick something up’, something he referred to as being part of ‘Pony 101’. After being an instructor for the children in Pensacola, Fred has become quite good at teaching the subject.

After a good half-hour of instruction, Bernie was deemed fit to try the stairs. Carefully, she made her way up the steps to a well-appointed cabin, where a reddish-brown and black half-cat half-bird sat on a sofa in one corner while a tall tortoiseshell cat stood in the galley, tending to a frying pan. “Hi, Bernie! I’m Fran. What would you like for breakfast?” the tall cat asked.

“What do you have going there?” Bernie asked, still maintaining some stun despite getting lessons from Fred.

“Porridge with added goat’s milk in the big pot, reconstituted scrambled eggs on demand, toast and hotcakes with maple or blueberry syrup. Margarine if you really want some,” Fran replied.

“Porridge, eggs, toast with some maple. Where do you find the coffee?” Bernie asked as the half-cat half-bird squeezed past her and headed downstairs, Fred going with it.

“Wherever we can! Nice thing about now, no budget to worry about! Just have to worry if it’s gone over or not!” Fran said as she found a bowl and ladled some porridge into it.

“How can you tell?" Bernie asked as she went to the table and found a seat.

“By checking the container or the contents. I can’t begin to count how many times I’ve lost my lunch scavenging. Do you know how to operate a tablet and a laptop?” Fran asked as she served the porridge to Bernie. It was hot, fragrant, and not bad at all!

“Yes, I do. Well, now that I’m a pony, it may be harder. Why do you ask?”

“Because, while you were asleep, I downloaded a thestral manual for you. When you’re ready, I’ll get the tablet and laptop and walk you through setting up your security codes. Once this storm passes, we’ll head out, do more scavenging, and check Sunken Gardens for medicinal plants,” Fran explained as she served up scrambled eggs and toast.

Bernie found her appetite resurging as she dug in. “Storm?” she asked after a forkful of eggs.

“Yes. Frack says it’s a tropical storm, moving rapidly west of us, heading north and should hit land south of Apalachicola sometime around this time tomorrow. Rain and wind have been constant since we picked you up, and the rain’s been getting harder all night,” Fran explained as she passed a tray of porridge, eggs and toast up to Foster, who accepted it with a smile.

“The rain stahted shortly after we got you aboard and dried out. Feels lakh some sort of cock-eyed hurricane,” Foster explained as he put the tray down.

“How do you know that? Where are you from?” Bernie asked the big white unicorn.

“Ah’m Foster Hardegan, former sheriff of Rapides Parish, Louisiana. Ah’ve been through mah share of hurricanes, and this one feels somewhat cock-eyed. Don’t ask me how I knows it, I just does,” Foster said as he mixed his coffee and took a sip before starting his breakfast.

Bernie thought quietly as she nibbled at the porridge. The goat’s milk added a not-bad flavor to it. As she thought, her wings twitched, like they wanted to catch the wind and soar gracefully through the air. She shut her eyes and focused on the sound of the wind blowing.

Suddenly, it was as if Bernie could feel the wind blowing around her, her mane and tail swirling as her wings caught the air. She could visualize how the wind blew, knowing instinctively how to fly. Not just fly, but fly well. She went with the feeling for a long second before her wings unfurled, bashing against the table. That snapped her out of her reverie.

“Lost in thought, Bernie?” Fran asked.

“That was interesting. It was like I was flying, like I could almost see the currents in the air…” Bernie said, awe in her tones.

“When Frieda and Frack wake up, they can tell yuh all about flyin’. They’s good at it, what with one bein’ a griffon and the othuh a pegasus,” Foster commented after some porridge.

“Pegasus?” Bernie asked. “As in the old Greek myths?”

“That’s right. Are you ready to listen and learn for a few hours? Not like we have a lot to do, so we can bring you up to speed on how matters are,” Fran told her.

All that day, Bernie learned about the state of the world from the crew of the Deliverance as people cycled up and down. The rain steadily got harder as the day went on, convincing the crew that staying aboard was indeed the smarter course of action. Fran taught Bernie how to access the boat’s wi-fi, and how to manipulate a laptop and tablet with hooves, pens and wingtips, with Frack’s help.

About nine, before Frick went to bed, he said to Bernie, “Now is not a good time to put you into the watch rotation, because we won’t be getting underway for at least two or three days. You can bed down here in the saloon on the settee. The watchstanders should not make enough noise to wake you. You can always ask for earmuffs.”

Bernie had been looking at the ceiling of the saloon, having noticed something above the hanging bags of grains and flour. “Actually, Frick, I can spend the night right here,” she said before putting her forehooves on the saloon table and doing a half-flip, bringing her back hooves into contact with the handrail that was there to help humans get around in rough seas.

Crossing her forehooves across her chest and furling her wings, Bernie settled in. “This will do just fine, Frick,” she said before closing her eyes. Soon, a gentle snore came from her.

Frick looked like someone had just plugged his shaving-brush tail into an electrical socket, staring at Bernie in shock. None of the other thestrals he had known (all three of them, from Kansas City) had done something like that before. Stuttering, he backed into the galley, just staring at Bernie hanging there, peacefully asleep.

From the pilothouse, Fran just lost it, laughing in near-hysterics at the scene. She laughed so hard, Frieda stuck her head up from below, followed by Fred. “What in tarnation is going on up here?” she said crossly before spotting Bernie hanging from the catch rail, Frick in open-mouth surprise. Frieda started snickering, moving aside so Fred could come up and see.

Fred let out a pleased chuckle when he saw the scene in the saloon, Fran recovering enough to grab her phone and record about thirty seconds of video, panning between Frick’s stunned look and Bernie’s peaceful hanging before saving the video to the ship’s mainframe… AND sending a copy to Sandra’s inbox at the WSU.

Shaking his head, Frick made his way down to his cabin, because he has the four to eight watch in the morning. Freida and Fred came up so that Frieda could make some chamomile-lavender tea. “Nice trick, Bernie. I haven’t seen Frick look that shocked in a long time!”

Bernie didn’t say a word, looking blissfully asleep, hanging from the catch rail. “Bernie?” Fred asked again, getting a bit confused at the scene. He didn’t think it was possible!

“Paw, go on back downstairs. I’ll bring the tea. Let her sleep. Been a long day of studying for her,” Frieda advised quietly.

“Right, Maw,” Fred said equally quietly before tiphoofing down the stairs. Five minutes later, carrying a tray containing two mugs of chamomile/lavender tea, Frieda followed, turning off the saloon light. Soon, the main cabin light downstairs went off.

Twenty minutes later, Bernie spoke in a carrying whisper. “Looks like it worked, Fran!”

“It sure did, you bat-winged imp! Come on down and I can unfold the bed up here for you,” Fran said from the pilothouse.

“No, don’t bother. This is actually quite comfortable!” Bernie said smugly.

“If anyone can go batty real fast, you’re first in line!”

The next morning, the rains had gone from a downpour to just a damp breeze. After breakfast, Fred took the duty watch, Frack and Frieda took Bernie out for flight lessons, Frick and Foster started fueling operations, and Fran took her bicycle and cart to go out and about town. First thing she sought out was a local map.

Bernie found flying to be easy to learn. As she explained to Frack and Frieda, it was more a matter of trusting the power to work and try not to look foolish doing so. After receiving Frack’s stamp of approval that she knew enough to not kill herself, plans were made for Frack and Bernie to fly to Sunken Gardens to investigate the flora there more thoroughly than was done the week before, Frieda relieving Fred on watch.

The two made quick work of the flight there, Bernie taking lead and flying low, so she can see how much the city had changed in a little more than a year. “I may not have had the best of lives, but Saint Pete has been my hometown since my parents moved here from Amsterdam back in seventy-one,” Bernie told Frack as they flew up Fourth Street North. “Seeing it like this is heartbreaking.” Windows and signs were broken, power lines and traffic lights mostly down. Debris like leaves, tree limbs and whole palm tree leaves littered the road, with an occasional fallen tree.

“I know the feeling, Bernie. Oconee, Nebraska was like this, too. Just not as bad, because it’s almost a blink town and we Returned in December. Snow covered a lot,” Frack said.

“There’s the sign up ahead,” Bernie said, pointing. Many of the blue letters had fallen out, leaving the sign looking old and tired.

“The other side’s not as bad. We flew in from Tarpon Springs last week, but we didn’t stay long. A couple of Returnees found Fred and his working party while they were out scavenging. We only stayed here maybe ten minutes before heading back. I KNOW there are a lot of medicinal plants here. Our job is to see what’s here, and what ELSE is here, like fresh fruit.”

“There are some fruit trees in here. Lots of flowers, a flock of flamingos, a nice gift shop. My family would come here at least twice a year, just for the beauty of it. When I got married, I would bring my wife and kids here as well. Haven’t been here in a while, though,” Bernie said as they neared the Gardens.

“You mentioned a rather nasty divorce. I won’t ask for details,” Frack replied. “Such stories require something we don’t have right now. Booze.”

The pair landed by the gate to the Gardens, in the empty parking lot. “What’s the gate doing open?” Bernie asked, surprised at the sight.

“Frieda and I saw that, too, but we didn’t research it. We just walked in, looked around, found some poison joke, took some pictures, then Frick called and we headed back,” Frack told him, looking closer at the gate. “Here’s the chain.”

Bernie hoofed the chain out of a pile of leaves. “Frack, this link here- it’s been cut, then bent and broken. Who could have done this?”

Frack looked at the link. It was partially cut through, then twisted enough to break the link, twisted so the broken link stayed on one end of the chain. “Didn’t notice this before. Who could have done this is a good question. I don’t have an answer.”

“But I do,” said a voice that came from inside the gate, behind a mass of flowers. A massive shape strode through the flowers, towering over the two ponies.

“Oh, no, not again…” Frack muttered, looking up.

Author's Note

I have a couple of pictures, okay, a picture and a sketch, of Bernie in a couple of poses (provided by Goldfur, drawn by Foxena and a friend of Goldfur's respectively), but, I do not know how to get the pictures from MY computer onto the story here without a URL link, which I do NOT have in this case! Any advice will be gracelessly appreciated!

One thing I CAN do is to include the sixth picture of the crew here, Foster Hardegan.

Name: Foster Hardegan
Age: 55+ (or thereabouts, he's never actually said...
Hometown: Alexandria, Louisiana
Occupation: former 25-year sheriff of Rapides Parish, LA. Currently Ambassador to the WSU from the court of Queen Marie Laveau.
Personality: Tends to be serious, but knows when to put the guards down and smile a bit. If he gives his word on anything, take it to the bank.
Cutie Mark: A five-pointed silver star inside a gold ring.
Other notes: Wears a large green gem in a gold housing on a silver chain around his neck. The gem allows him to communicate with Queen Marie, to control any of Marie's zombies, and (yet to be revealed) communicate with other ponies assigned to the Ambassador's office AND create zombies on his own. (great responsibility- zombies need good care!)
Usual Call sign: Pelican Six. Can comprehend the fivesome's unusual call sign etiquette, just considers it 'unprofessional'.

(Huh- picture's not coming in right... Wonder why...)

Edit 1 2111.05 - thanks to Harts Fire for teaching me how to get the pictures up!

Chapter 25: Burning Bridges

Both Frack and Bernie looked up at the source of the voice, a very large minotaur cow who looked back down at them. “I broke it to get in, looking for food. Found plenty here. Willing to share. Some storm, wasn’t it? Glad I found a building here to shelter in, so I wouldn’t have to swim. How bad is it out there?” the chatty minotaur asked.

“Bad enough. How many letters had come off the south side of the sign when you got here?” Frack asked in return. “And, who are you?”

“Me? I was Joan Tucker. I sure didn’t look like THIS before!” she said, indicating her two-meter-plus frame.

“I’m sure of that. I’m Frack, and this is Bernie. She’s local, I’m from Nebraska. How long have you been here?” Frack asked.

“Two full moons plus that I’m sure of. How much plus, I’m not. Just woke up one night on my bed up on the north side, and hunger drove me south. Got here I would say four, five weeks ago. Have you seen them big sinkholes?” Joan asked.

“Sure have!” Frack affirmed. “Saw one form up by Tarpon Springs. Maggots the size of rattlesnakes!”

“So that explains the swarm of flies I saw a while back,” Joan said. “Want to come in? Got some fresh fruit and vegetables that are ripe!”

“Fresh fruit? What’s fresh fruit?” Frack asked.

Bernie had a quick riposte. “It’s something that grows on trees that you can pick and eat.”

“I thought money grew on trees,” Frack countered.

“Not in this state. Maybe in Nebraska, but not down here,” Bernie replied.

“Are you two always like this?” Joan asked.

“How would I know? I arrived the day before yesterday!” was Bernie’s response.

Joan laughed long and hard, her ears turning a bit reddish. “Come on in, and let’s see what we can do for each other!”

“Plus, I have to call this in to the Captain. I would invite you to the boat, but, I’m afraid your horns will slice up our overhead storage,” Frack admitted. “It’s a pleasure trawler, not an ocean liner!”

Frack called in while Joan and Bernie chatted. Bernie found out just how much a thestral likes fresh fruit, especially mangoes. When he came back, he found Bernie with her teeth firmly sunk into a mango, sucking the juices out of it. “And you said you weren’t a vampire…” he said in mock-disgust.

“Just on low-hanging fruits so far. You’re not the right type to go snacking on, Bright-Eyes!” Bernie replied in a flirtatious manner.

“Okay, then, I’m going to put together a thick collar to protect my neck!” Frack snapped back.

“If you’re sure it will help, go right ahead! Just remember- thestrals can enter dreams, lover boy!” Bernie teased.

“I don’t think you’ll want a return visit to my dreams, young lady!” Frack fired back.

“HOLD IT!” Joan bellowed, getting the squabbling ponies’ attention. “Frack, what did your captain say?”

“Oh, he and Fred will be here within an hour, with the wagon. He’ll bring a few things you can use right off, while he dickers for trade goods, like fresh fruits, greens and medicinals, which are in HIGH demand by friends of ours.” Frack managed to say casually.

“Oh, really?” Joan said, drawing the last word out. “Just how can we manage a trading relationship?”

Frack sat down on a nearby rock, under the fruit trees. Finding an orange that did not look too bad, he quickly peeled it. “There’s more than one way to do it, depending on what YOU want to do,” he said. “You can stay here on your own, you can come with us in the fall, or maybe the WSU would want to leave a few ponies here just to grow medicinal plants, to be picked up a couple times a year.

“Frick will know more about the ideas. You think on what you want to do, okay?” Frack said as he took a bite of the orange- and squirted a stream of juice onto Bernie’s face.

“Only you can turn orange juice into a dangerous weapon…” Bernie snorted, juice dripping off her muzzle.

“Are you always this clownish?” Joan asked.

“No, just when we’re nervous enough about the future so that laughing is better than other options,” Frack said seriously, Bernie nodding in agreement.

“Good way to look at things,” Joan agreed.

“The world out there is not as nice as it was, Joan,” Frack told the minotaur. “While we’re waiting for Frick and Fred, let me tell you about the state of the world as we know it.” Between bites of oranges and grapefruit, Frack told the two about their trip from Nebraska to Saint Petersburg, explaining all the stops along the way and what they all have done at each stop.

“Do you keep in touch with all your back stops?” Joan asked.

“If not directly, then indirectly, through WSU radio. While we do check in with each other on occasion, we ALL check in with Sandra at the WSU, who’s on air most days at an inconvenient hour for us, but that happens, because they're based in Rotterdam, where we hope to go,” Frack said. “For instance, I know Kansas City has found three more ponies, Saint Louis North has four new members, and Memphis three wander-ins. In all places, we’ve helped them go from scrounging scraps to actually giving them hope for the future. Farms are being planted, lower-end tech is being refurbished to make life less of a struggle, and we’re giving ponies a sense of hope, a reason to go on living another day.”

“Been listening to Fred’s sermons?” Bernie quipped.

“For over fifty years, Bernie. Don’t tell him, though. He’ll never believe I paid attention,” Frack countered.

Frack told some more about the WSU, an organization that is trying to re-establish some sort of technological civilization, mainly so they can maintain the three ships in the fleet. “They’ve been a lot of help to us, over the radio and what’s left of the Net. They tell us what we don’t know, plus how to implement it. That’s one reason why we’re so hot to get to Rotterdam, via Havana.”

“Havana? Why there?” Joan asked.

“They found enough people there to make a viable colony, and after their fleet paid a visit last year, it’s become a link in the chain. There are colonies in Belfast, Norway, Brazil, Mexico and Savannah that I know of. Maybe something in Jacksonville. I know Kings Bay navy base has a bunch of sailors there, off a submarine that crashed last year. One of the ships has what was needed to rescue the crew,” Frack explained.

“Seems like I have a lot to learn about life today,” Joan mused.

“Cornhusker One to Cornhusker Four. Got your ears on, bro?” came from the radio.

Frack looked up at Joan. “Pardon me,” he said before getting his radio in a hoof. “I got ‘em, bro. Where you at?”

“In the parking lot. You and Bernie get your kiesters out here to help unload!” Frick snapped.

“I’ll bring the resident as well. Out in a minute! Cornhusker Four out!”

Joan had to smile. “Just have to love your radio discipline,” she said as she got up.

“Different, yes? When no one is around to enforce the rules, throw them out!” Frack laughed.

“Mostly,” Bernie added. “Some rules make sense.”

“That they do,” Joan said. “I was a dispatcher for a security company before this happened. I drilled all recruits in proper discipline. If they can’t, I had the authority to fire them almost on the spot.”

“No wonder you became a minotaur…” Frack said, fortunately not loud enough to be heard clearly, or so he thought…

After an hour’s chatting over coffee and rolls, Joan showed Frick, Fred and Bernie around the garden. Frack had to go relieve Frieda on watch. If he was late, his Vanilla Coke stash goes overboard!

The garden, overgrown as it was because of no maintenance or gardening for a year, still showed some sort of organization. Orchids, herbs, vegetables, fruit trees, all stayed in ‘territories’, but vines and leaves were everywhere. Frick kept himself busy, taking picture after picture of the various flowers, with signs if there were any. Frick and Fred kept a constant stream of talk going, asking Joan about her wants and needs, Bernie on where good scavenge could be found, and both about plans for Later On, as Frick put it.

After the tour, Frick asked for permission to pick some fresh fruits, vegetables, herbs and greens. “In exchange, tomorrow, you meet us down at the boat when you’re awake and ready, and we’ll go out scavenging together, with the wagon. Tonight, you think of what you want to pick up tomorrow, and read about what a minotaur is on the tablet. We’ll leave the generator here for power. Deal?” he offered.

“You got yourself a deal! Let’s get your wagon unloaded and I’ll help you load up with what you want!” Joan said eagerly. “It’s just so nice not to be alone any more!”

“We know the feeling, Joan!” Fred said with a smile in his voice. “Just doing God’s work, spreading the good will and knowledge about. Helping others is our stock in trade now.”

After getting Joan set up, the three picked a mass of greens which barely covered the bottom of the wagon, but there was no hurry to strip the place bare. With an agreement to meet the next day, the three ponies headed back to the Deliverance and a fresh-greens dinner the likes of which they have not had since leaving Pensacola.

The next morning, Joan arrived bright and early, and after hot coffee and waffles with syrup, set out with Bernie, Frick, Frack, and after a bit of watch-trading, Fred and Fran. Frieda and Foster stayed behind to get the fueling underway and wait for the WSU to sort through the huge file of pictures they were sent the night before of the available produce from Sunken Gardens. Plus, Frieda wanted to see if she could make some preserves from some of the leftover fruit.

Their chosen target is a Wal-Mart about five miles away, at Thirty-Fourth Avenue South and Thirty-Seventh Street South. They chose there because Bernie’s house is less than a mile away from there, and she wanted to gather a few things. It was fortunate that they could take the Interstates almost all the way there. Fran got her bicycle free and oiled for use, along with the cart, and was able to ride scout ahead of the others.

The five chatted among each other as they walked down I-275, Joan asking questions about what she had learned overnight from the tablet, and the group offering answers as best they knew. Joan’s questions were thoughtful, detailed, and sometimes exceeded the knowledge base of the Deliverance crew, which they readily admitted to. Joan kept track of her Q and A’s in a notebook she brought in her shoulder bag.

“Recon Viper One to Commander Adama! We have a problem!” Fran’s voice came over the radio.

Frick, Frack and Fred stopped and looked at each other. Fran didn’t usually play radio games like that, especially when Frick had not outlined any for that day. Frick got his radio out. “Recon Viper One, this is Commander Adama. What’s going on, Starbuck?”

“Commander, I have spotted an intense concentration of large flies on Twenty-Second Avenue South east of the 275. It looks like a ball of flies, just swarming around each other. Big flies, too. I’m observing them from under the 275, off to their west. They just appear interested in swarming,” Fran reported.

“That’s like what I saw a couple of months ago up on the north side!” Joan said. “A big clot of flies, all flying and swarming around each other!”

“Did they do anything else?” Fred asked. “I can tell they’re not burrowing through the earth.”

“To be honest, Fred, I didn’t stick around to look. I just beat fleet feet south along Fourth Street until I could not see or hear the buzz ball. I just wanted to be far away!” Joan replied, a little bit of foam on her nostrils.

“Easy, Joan. They can’t hurt you,” Fred said quietly, moving closer to the minotaur. “They’re busy with each other. They don’t want you.”

“Yeah, but they are BIG flies! What are they doing here?” Joan asked, getting a grasp on her fright.
“We don’t know yet, Joan,” Frick said. “But we’ll try to find out.” He picked up his radio in his glow again. “Starbuck, do you want assistance?”

“Roger that, Commander. Four and Seven will be of help, especially Seven’s ears. I’m under the freeway at our exit. I won’t go anywhere!” Fran reported.

“Okay, then. Four and Seven are on their way, and the rest of us will be along soon enough. See you soon! Adama out,” Frick said as Frack and Bernie took off in a whir of wings.

“Starbuck out,” Fran said before going quiet.

Fred snorted as he started walking. “Maggots lead to flies, I can see. But, what do the flies do?” he asked no one in particular.

“For all I know, flies make more maggots to dig through the earth for whatever reason,” Frick mused.

“But why do the maggots dig through the ground?” Joan asked.

“Maggots are used to eat dead flesh out of wounds that have festered, in some places,” Fred said. “Maybe the maggots are swarming to places in the ground that are suffering some sort of contamination of a sort we don’t know about?”

“I’ll send that off to the Admiralty. Let them stew about it. All I know for sure is that we don’t know enough about it, and we don’t even know what questions to ask nor make the right readings,” Frick said.

“Sounds like a plan to me, Frick,” Fred replied to the statement with one of his own. Frick has become much better as a pony since they started this expedition, but he still has his moments of ‘Henry Blake-ism’ which still requires some support.

Frack and Bernie saw the fly-ball shortly after taking wing. They decided to fly on the north/west side of 275, just to stay away from the flies. It wasn’t long before they spotted Fran and her bicycle, filming the flies from under a bridge. “Not an everyday sight, is it?” Frack commented upon landing.

“Not hardly,” Fran said. “I think the swarm is getting a bit thinner. When I got here, I could not see through the center of the ball.”

“There’s a whole lot of buzzing going on,” Bernie said. “But, I can hear when buzzing stops.”

“I just saw a fly drop into the sinkhole!” Frack said excitedly, pointing with a wing. “There goes another!”

“Let’s watch and wait until the others get here, then decide what to do,” Fran suggested.

“You want to stick around, Bernie, or head home, get what you want, and meet us at the Wal-Mart?” Frack asked.

Bernie looked around a bit, pointedly not looking at the others. “Sounds like a pretty good idea. I’ll have to come to terms with this my own way. If you don’t hear from me in two hours, call, okay?” she sighed.

Frack went to Bernie and put a wing over her. “We know it’s hard. You have us, when you’re ready. I have your address and I know the directions. If you need help, I’ll be there to guide you back. Deal?”

Bernie met Frack’s gaze, her slitted gold eyes looking deep into Frack’s red round ones. “Thank you, Frack. May you not have to,” she managed to say before taking wing, tracking south.

Both Fran and Frack watched her fly off. “It’s harder on some than others,” Fran said.

“It is. We all had each other to lean on. You had us. She has a lot of history. Not all of it is pleasant,” Frack replied.

“She has us. She knows it. We’re here for her,” Fran said. “She just has to be ready for it.”

By the time Frick, Fred and Joan got to where Fran and Frack waited, the fly ball was much thinner, maybe a couple of dozen flies buzzing about, one or two falling into the sinkhole every couple of minutes. “Let’s take a look inside when we’re done scavenging, film everything and you can send them off later tonight,” Frick told Fran.

“Sounds like a good plan, Frick,” Fran replied, because she was far better at working the computer than anyone else aboard.

“Where’s Bernie?” Fred asked.

“Home,” Frack answered. “If we don’t hear from her in an hour or so, I’m to go after her.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go shopping, shall we?”

The five walked (or flew) the additional mile to the Wal-Mart, which, after Frick got the doors open, proved rather fruitful for Joan and her needs. One thing that made her particularly happy was a large hammock, durable enough to take her weight without shredding or tearing. The additional cooking gear helped, too.

While loading up the wagon, Bernie returned, an old backpack between her wings. “Get everything you wanted, Bernie?” Frack asked.

“I did, and finally did one thing I wanted to do. Bought the house back in ninety-four, got married there, had a daughter there, got divorced, and lived there because alimony and child support precluded me moving to a better area,” Bernie said bitterly, waving a wing to the southwest.

“What did you do?” Frick asked.

“I took what I wanted, piled everything up that I hated, and planted a firebomb atop the stack. It should be going off right about... now,” Bernie said quietly as a puff of black smoke climbed up into the air.

Everyone stared at the smoke plume as it curled up into the sky. “Damn, when you burn your bridges, you don’t mess around!” Joan said quietly.

“Ponies, let’s head back to the boat. We got what we were looking for,” Fred said in a no-nonsense voice as he got into harness.

“Right, Fred. Let’s do this,” Frick confirmed, tearing his sight away from the smoke rising into the noontime sky.

Author's Note

I have found, when ideas won't jell just right, to not force the issue. However, when it's close to when you have promised to publish, reach deep into the bag of creativity and see what you can pull out. Not recommended, but workable.

Got word from a friend that he's going to be wanting support during a rough time. To that end, I will be flying to Texas on 1 Dec and staying until early January. How that will affect my output, I can't say yet. I'm going to stay weekly until then. after that, who knows? Who's Nose, that's what.

Now, for this weeks bio and pic, Bernie! Writing courtesy of Goldfur.

https://www.deviantart.com/aldenmacmanx/art/Bernie-897096910

Name: Bernard Fritz Verstappen a.k.a. Bernie
Gender: Male Female
Age: 45
Hometown: Saint Petersburg, Florida
Occupation: Self-employed welder
Personality: Quiet and reserved until you get to know her. Subtle sense of humor. Uncertain of what her change of sex means to her but not hating it. Has a very low tolerance for stupidity.
Talents: Excellent night vision and echo location. Silent flight which has caused her friends to jump out of their skins frequently when she approaches them unnoticed.
Other facts: Born of Dutch parents who immigrated from Netherlands to the United States when he was young and is bilingual as a result. Oldest of three siblings – two sisters born in America. Married a high school sweetheart which relationship soured soon after they had a daughter. Divorced a few years later, leaving him paying alimony and child support for many years, which left him leery of relationships. Remained single until The Event changed his gender as well as species.

Chapter 26: Malala and Michie

The team spent the next two days repairing, refitting, restocking and replacing various items both on board the Deliverance and in Joan’s campground at the Gardens. Word back from the WSU raved about the varied amount of botanicals available, and made the request of both Joan and the group to start packaging different botanical products, for later pickup. Frick and Fran were tasked to make a computer ready for Joan, so she could speak and see with the botanicals crew on the Rhine Forest to learn how to prepare plants for potions. That did not take long to do. Getting two generators, putting together a fuel purifier, putting a shack up to put the generators in, programming the computer and setting up the Internet link took an extra day to do properly.

Finally, early morning on the twelfth of June, the Deliverance crew were ready to set sail, next port of call, Fort Myers. After saying good-bye to Joan, they pulled out, Frack taking the conn from the bridge, with Bernie at his side, to learn how the boat worked.

As the Sunshine Skyway came into sight ahead in the distance, Frack asked Bernie, “Feeling any better, now that we’re heading out?”

Bernie stared out into the bay from behind her shades. “The farther away I get, the better I’ll feel, I HOPE,” she said, emphasizing the last two words. She continued, “It’s been hard this past week. It’s like my emotions are on a roller coaster, going from hardly there to over-dominant.”

Frack grunted. “Yeah. Like when you went over your truck and found all your welding gear was ruined. Just how did you get that piece of equipment stuck into the side of that one hulk?”

“I kicked it. Hard. Venting my fury and rage at losing something important to me,” Bernie said in a near-growl.

“How’s the hoof?”

“Getting there. Fred fixed the worst of it, but it still aches.”

“Good. Think you can take the conn for a while? I’ll monitor from back here, from the tablet. Just watch the maps and gauges, and trust the autopilot.”

“I can do that, Frack.”

Frack went to the back of the bridge and sat down on a cooler. Pulling out his tablet, he proceeded to put Bernie through the wringer on engine and navigation faults they had encountered on the trip. Bernie took it all calmly, reporting each fault she detected, and when asked, either told or demonstrated the proper recovery procedure. When he was done, he went up to hug Bernie with a wing. “You did very well indeed, for someone who said she wasn’t much into boating.”

Bernie’s reply was to hit Frack under the chin with an uppercut from her wing. “What in Hell’s own province was all that about?” she said harshly.

Frack rubbed his chin with a fetlock. It didn’t so much hurt as surprise the hell out of him. “Just wanted to make sure you knew what to do, is all. I know damn well you’re not dumb, but now that you passed, we can put you in the watch rotation. Foster went through the same thing,” he said in explanation. “Frick can be fiendish. I’m polite.”

Bernie went back to watching the coast of Florida as the boat cruised southeastward towards Fort Myers. “I bet you had some problems with this boat once you got to the Gulf,” she stated.

“Aye, just a few, lassie,” Frack said in his Mister Scott voice. “Glad we no encounter rocks in the river. Those big catfish though…” He shivered, remembering the one from Saint Louis.

“The one you said was bigger than the boat?” Bernie asked.

“Got a couple of pictures, if you want to see,” Frack offered.

“I’ll pass, thank you. Big enough stuff out here,” Bernie gestured with a wing, at the land off to port, and the glittering blue sea to starboard.

“May they keep their distance. Going to be hard enough to fix this boat if anything happens. That’s why we’re fanatical about maintenance, doing oil checks and such routinely, as well as filter changes and fuel quality,” Frack explained.

“All that I can understand,” Bernie said before lapsing into silence, splitting attention between controls and the seascape in front, just like he was driving his old truck.

Frack, reading Bernie’s mood, said quietly, “I’ll be in the pilothouse if you need anything. Fran will relieve you at noon,” before heading downstairs.

Bernie sat at the controls, mind whirling. Losing everything, well, everyone else has. They found this boat and built it up to what is here now. If they can do it, so could she. If they were not there, she would have drowned at the bottom of Tampa Bay, unable to release the seat belt, tangled in too-big clothing.

She shivered at that thought, of drowning in the dark and muck of the bay floor. They ARE good people, Frack especially. Flying is so much fun, and she surprised him with her skill. At least they can take her pranks in good humor, especially hanging from the catch bar. Bernie smiled at that. She didn’t SEE Frick’s expression, but her sonar gave her enough of a view to make it hard for her to pretend to sleep when the others came up. Yes, give them a chance. Plus, an opportunity to go to the Netherlands, a place her parents told of, but she herself never got to see. Being fluent in Dutch would HAVE to be of help.

It was well after six p.m. before the Deliverance pulled into the part of Fort Myers Frick was looking for, the north end of the island where Fort Myers Beach was located. From there, he piloted the ship (it was his watch, until eight, where Fred would take over) up a channel, looking for his target, the Getaway Marina. Not only would that be the best chance to refuel, it was also not too far away from a Wal-Mart where they hoped to resupply.

Thanks to the extra-long June daylight hours, Frick managed to moor at the fuel pumps before darkness fell. “Bernie, want to take a scout about? The Wal-Mart is right up this road, and I want to see if there are any vacant docks up by the end of the road. If there are, scavenging will be that much easier,” he asked the thestral.

“Golly gee, you trustin’ me to solo now, Cap’n?” Bernie drawled in reply, a slight smile on her face.

“Ah sure do, Bernie! Yuh done earned it! Now, grab a radio and head out. Think you can be back in an hour?” Frick countered the drawling response with one of his own.

“Uh, huh! Ah shore will, Cap’n!” Bernie said, taking a radio from its charger and turning it on before giving a sloppy wing salute and heading out the back door.

“Nice to see she’s fitting in. Been a bit worried about her,” Fred said from his seat in the back of the saloon.

“She’ll adapt, Paw,” Frieda said from the galley, where she was preparing a large pot of macaroni and cheese with the last bottle of goat’s milk, with peas and corn mixed in. Fran was upstairs, preparing some goat meat and fish crumbles to add into the carnivore’s portions. “Just give her time.”

Bernie took wing and followed the road north. The Wal-Mart was not hard to find, following the main road. There were plenty of open boat docks closer to the end of the housing area, so moving the Deliverance would not be an issue. She soared over the section of town as darkness fell, enjoying the peace and serenity of the calm, if muggy, night. Off in the distance she saw the Deliverance’s navigation lights come on, which she welcomed because while her sonar did work, she was not practiced with it, and low-light vision does NOT mean NO-light vision. Several long, lazy swoops around the area of the city later, satisfying herself there was nothing to see, Bernie made her way back to the Deliverance. She didn’t want to miss out on the mac and cheese!

From under an awning at the Golisano Children’s Hospital, a black Abyssinian kitten clung to the forelegs of a zebra wearing a doctor’s coat. “They’re that way,” the kitten said, pointing southwest.

“And the fly lord is the other way, Michie,” the zebra said calmly. “They, and we, will be alright tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll see about going to see them, okay?”

“They good, Doctor Malala. The fly lord is not. Fly lord better not finish what he started. We not like it,” Michie whimpered as the doctor reached her head down to nuzzle the kitten.

“Let’s get some sleep, Michie.”

Bright and early the next morning, the Deliverance crew was hard at work, getting the fuel purifier set up and primed, the bicycle and wagon set up on shore, and the four non-flyers drew lots to see who would remain with the ship. Foster drew the bad lot, and wound up with the duty for the day. The three fliers were put on hunting detail, to find game for the carnivores. As Frack explained to Bernie, their job was to spot for Frieda, who Frack readily admitted was a better shot than anyone on board. “Even back when we were people, Frieda was a damn good shot.”

The three fliers took wing and started their hunt. The hardest job was to find undeveloped ground that wasn’t under water! Finally, after some circling, they found some east of their docking area. Crossing, re-crossing and criss-crossing the area seemed fruitless, until Bernie’s sharp ears picked up some strange sounds coming from the edge of a clearing. Investigating, they found the source of the sound, a sow pig with a litter of rather big piglets. Problem being, where there’s a sow, there’s a boar. A BIG boar. A big boar not happy with some wing-flapping strangers near his sow!

The three moved off to the far side of the clearing and landed. “Those piglets look to weigh in at about twenty pounds apiece. How can we separate one from the rest without getting ourselves killed?” Frieda asked.

“I have an idea,” Frack told the group. “Frieda, you give overflights and stoops. I want you to scatter them. Bernie, try to lead or chase some of the piglets into the clearing and stun one with your sonic cry. I’ll swoop in and grab the stunned piglet in my hooves and fly off. We’ll meet in that small clearing west of here to kill it, and Frieda can carry it back to the boat for butchering.”

The other two thought about the suggestion. “Where are you going to position yourself, Frack?” Frieda asked.

“I’ll duck into the trees behind the hogs. Once they start running, I’m hoping they will scatter out into the clearing. When I see one go down, I’ll charge out, take wing and snatch it on the run. Deal?” Frack outlined.

Frieda shrugged. “I’m willing to try, for some fresh meat. What about you, Bernie?”

Bernie pawed the turf with a hoof, thinking. “Okay, let’s try it. If this doesn't work, we’ll try something else, right?”

“Right!” Frack agreed. “Frieda, you head south and put yourself where you can see the pigs. When you see me come up behind them, that’s when you start. Bernie, you go when you feel fit. Don’t target us with the cry, just the pigs, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, I’ll do my best!” Bernie giggled before taking off. The others followed and took their positions. When all was set, Frieda stooped.

They say no plan survives first contact with reality, and it happened here, too. The first swoop, Frieda’s scream caused the pigs to scatter in all directions. Three headed straight for Frack, who jumped to let them go by, kicking one in the head with a back hoof, stunning it. He grabbed it in all four hooves and fled, taking to the air.

The sow, however, ran straight for Frieda with blood in her eye. Startled, Frieda mistimed her swoop, and went far closer to the ground than she wanted. Bernie, seeing this, let fly a scream that stunned the sow, it falling over before getting to where Frieda passed.

“I got one! Scatter-zoom!” Frack yelled as he grabbed air, the porker hanging from his hooves. They flew to the clearing where they had the conference, Frack dropping the stunned pig before landing.

“Didn’t go as planned, but it worked. I’ll take this back to the boat, you two do some more scouting around. Got it?” Frieda told the others.

Frack and Bernie glanced at each other before saluting Frieda with their wings. “Right, Maw!” they chorused before taking off in separate directions. Frieda just shook her head as she picked up the stunned pig and took off, returning to the Deliverance to do some butchering.

Meanwhile, at the Wal-Mart, Frick, Fred and Fran stopped in the parking lot by the front doors, Fran helping Fred unhitch while Frick opened the doors. “Excuse me, people, but someone’s been here already,” he announced.

“What makes you say that, Frick?” Fred asked.

“The door opened easily. TOO easily, if you ask me. Normally, I would have had to push a lot harder to get the door open. The door tracks have been cleared out, mainly from the door being opened and closed a few times,” Frick pointed out, using his glow to highlight the tracks and the junk that had been pushed aside.

“Looks like we have neighbors. Everyone, lights on and search carefully. Don’t want to startle ‘em,” Fred said casually, turning on his own headlight once free of the harness.

“Stay together or split up?” Fran asked.

“Split up. We’ll find clues faster that way,” Frick said, picking a direction. He headed to electronics, Fred to hardware and Fran to groceries, where they all found traces of ‘selective shopping’, items disarrayed, gaps on shelves, some items scattered on floors. They all gathered back in electronics to compare notes.

“I found some interesting items taken off the shelves,” Fran reported. “Beef jerky, beef stews, canned meats of all sorts, oatmeal, canned vegetables, stuff like that. I’m willing to bet there’s a non-pony in the bunch.”

“You could very well be right,” Fred said before reporting on what he found.

“I just hope we can find some other traces of them. Would be nice to learn the lay of the land from a local,” Frick grumbled. News of others can be a pain in the planning.

“Be careful what you wish for, Mister. You can get it,” came a woman’s voice from a doorway leading to the storage area of the store. The door swung open, to reveal a zebra dressed in a doctor’s coat and badge, with a black Abyssinian kitten on her back, clad in a dark blue T-shirt that went down to its knees.

“You do have a point, madam. Who do we have here? I’m Captain Frick of the motor vessel Deliverance, with me is my First Mate, Fred, and my Technical Officer, Fran,” Frick said in introduction.

“I’m Doctor Malala Hutchins, and my friend and rider, her name is Michie. I was about to go off duty when poof, I’m a zebra!” Malala said with a laugh. “I stayed at the county hospital, scavenging what I could. Michie showed up some time later.”

“How did you know we were here?” Frick asked.

“Michie. She can see events before and while they are happening. It’s been a life saver, what with the Fly Lord running about,” Malala told the three, her face going grim.

“Fly Lord?” Fred asked, immediately picking up on the doctor’s worry.

“That’s what I call it. Every few days, a large fly comes buzzing in and goes to the airport, carrying something that…” she paused, looking for the words. “Glows black, is the best way I can say it. They fly to the airport east of here and go into a hangar. The only time the Fly Lord comes out is to open the doors to the hangar, then shuts the door again. Have you ever seen the movie, ‘The Fly’?”

“It looks like a mix of a man and a fly?” Fred asked.

Malala nodded. “Close enough, if the man is a good ten feet tall. I’ve only seen it at a distance.”

“Oh, spiffing…” Frick muttered. “Would you like to help us scavenge, then come with us to the boat for a hot meal and some chat?”

Malala looked at Michie, who nodded eagerly. “We would be delighted to accept. Anything special you are looking for?”

“Just general supply restocking. The wagon’s parked out front,” Fred said.

“Good! May I bring our cart around?” Malala asked. “I brought some supplies from the hospital you may find useful.”

“Sounds like a good idea!” Frick said happily.

“Doctor Malala, can I go with the other kitty? She’s nice, like all of them!” Michie asked.

At Fran’s smile and nod, Malala agreed. “Ready to get off?” she said before sitting down, letting the kitten slide off. Michie raced to Fran for a hug.

“Ready to help me shop, Michie?” Fran asked.

“Yeah, Miss Fran! I show you where good stuff is, and smart stuff is!” Michie squealed happily.

“What’s smart stuff, and you want to ride in the cart?” Fran asked.

“Smart stuff will help keep the Fly Lord away! Yeah, wanna ride!” Michie said, raising her arms to be picked up. Fran put her in the shopping cart she was using and moved out, heading back to the grocery section.

As they passed the Pest Control aisle, Michie pointed down it. “This way!” she squealed.

Confused, Fran pushed the cart down that aisle. “Why here, Michie?” she asked.

“Something to use against the Fly Lord!” Michie said, pointing not at the Raid or Orkin cans, but at something else.

“A Bug-A-Salt gun?” Fran asked, incredulous.

“Not the gun, but the salt! You’ll need a way bigger gun to get the salt to the Fly Lord!” Michie told Fran.

Fran thought about what Michie said. She picked up the gun and looked it over, thinking. She then put it in the cart. “Something to think more about, Michie. Now, anything you would like?”

“Chicken in a can!” Michie said without hesitating.

“I think I can swing that!” Fran said with a smile as she headed to that aisle.

An hour later, everyone was gathered back at the Deliverance for lunch. Fran and Michie were up on the bridge, where Fran was preparing some of the pork while Michie enjoyed a hot chicken sandwich for once. “Doctor Malala doesn’t like having meat around her!” she complained to Fran.

“Neither do many of the others. Only Missus Frieda and I really enjoy meat, while Mister Frack and Miss Bernie like fish,” Fran explained as she worked on taking what Frieda had not cut up from the piglet into roasts, steaks, and even grinding some.

“Why?” Michie asked.

As Fran tried to explain, the others were downstairs, enjoying coffee, soup, yesterday’s rolls, and in Malala’s case, companionship and conversation. “What’s in Key West that’s important?” she asked.

“It’s not so much Key West, it’s Havana. Key West is just a way station between here and there. Havana is where the ponies and others are. There, we are to meet up with agents of the World Seafarer’s Union. When one of their ships pulls into Havana for trade, we are going to get aboard, pick up some of the others we have found on our voyages, then head for Rotterdam, where their headquarters are,” Frick explained.

“They have guided and aided us remotely since we Returned back in December,” Fred added. “Frick got a world-band radio working and started listening. He found them right off and decided to head downriver, so we did. We found this boat a few days later, and it made for better cruising downstream.”

“Heat, light, clean water, yes, we got lucky finding this boat,” Frack said. “We take care of her, and she takes care of us.”

“Speakin’ of takin’ care, Doctor, what sort of doctor are you, if’n I may ask,” Foster put in.

“I’m a radiologist. I interpret X-rays, CAT scans, MRI readings, stuff like that. When I’m not needed in radiology, I help out doing general medicine. I came down to Florida for med school, and decided to stay after graduating. They made a reasonable offer, so I did all my residency and post-grad work from here. I hate the cold!” Malala explained, shivering theatrically before sipping some coffee.

“Where are you from?” Frieda asked as she brought the soup pot over for refills.

“Buffalo, New York. After graduating high school, I applied to several schools here in Florida, and accepted a scholarship at the University of Miami. Never been back,” Malala explained as Frieda put another dipper full of hot, fragrant soup into her bowl.

“Well, you can either come with us to Rotterdam, or stay in Havana. How’s your Spanish?” Frieda asked.

“Better than average. I spent a lot of time in Little Havana doing volunteer work. Didn’t hardly speak a word of it when I got there, but by the time I graduated med school, I was fluent in it,” Malala explained before picking up her spoon and having some soup. “I’ve missed hot meals!”

“We can well imagine that, Doctor Malala,” Frick said. “Given that, would you like an all-expenses paid trip to Havana? There, you won’t be alone, you’ll have help with Michie, and you can get back to being some sort of doctor again. You could just stay in Havana, or come with us to Rotterdam.”

Malala sipped some soup, looking thoughtful. “Sure you’re willing to take us? Seems like you’re full up already,” she stated, her gaze going from one pony to another.

“We’s not sayin it’s gonna be a pleasure cruise, but, we can get to Key West in one daylight surge, camp in Key West for a day or so to refuel, then it’s a hundred miles to Havana,” Foster said from the pilothouse.

“In Key West, it should not be too much trouble setting up a tent or two to camp in, so it won’t be so crowded in here,” Frack added.

“To get away from the Fly Lord, all I can ask is, ‘When do we leave’?” Malala asked.

“Within a few days at most,” Frick said with confidence. “Refueling is slow, and processing enough to fill our tanks takes time to do it right. Now, tell us about the Fly Lord. Is it something to worry about, or can we ignore it?”

Malala had some more soup before answering. Putting a chunk of bread in to soak, she said, “Michie is scared of it. It has not done a thing to us at all. I doubt it knows we are here, or if it does, it doesn’t give a good god damn. I have to admit, those dark crystals the flies bring in every few days do scare me. One came in the day before you came in, so the next should be here tomorrow, maybe later today.” She then got the bread out of the soup and took a big, soggy bite.

“Is there anything regular about the dark crystal deliveries?” Bernie asked.

“Just that they all arrive during the day. Whatever those crystals are, from the time the fly gets near to when it is put up, we try to remain unnoticed. Once, I worked up the courage to go to the top floor and look. Just once,” Malala managed to say. “That’s how we know what it looks like.”

“No wonder why you asked for a ride out. Why have you been staying?” Frick asked.

“Several reasons,” Malala replied. “One, we would have to walk. Two, with Michie on my back, there would not be enough room left for supplies. Three, there’s a lot of nothing between cities, and I never liked camping. Four, I’ve lived here for over twelve years now, and it’s my home. If I ride with you, I won’t have any nagging urge to remain here.”

Frieda asked, “What do you know about Michie?”

“Not much. Some time after I became a zebra, I was in the hospital when I heard a child crying. I tracked the cries to Emergency, where I found her in a heap of clothing far too big for her. When I came into the room, she raced to me and grabbed onto my forelegs and would not let go for a good twenty minutes,” Malala explained. “She said her name was Michie, she’s four years old, she had a ‘big ouchie’ that went away when she became a kitty, and she’s been my shadow ever since.”

“Somehow, I think she’s become Fran’s shadow now. Will that bother you, Malala?” Fred asked in his gentle way.

Malala shook her head vigorously. “Not in the slightest! I’ve never been a mother, and she’s not like me in any way. If Fran can bring her up to be all she can be, I won’t object at all. They’re both cats. Like attracts like, right?”

“That’s true. You’re only the second zebra we’ve encountered on our travels. The first one ran the Saint Louis group we found. She’s rather determined, but is also a good leader and organizer. You and her share a lot of traits,” Fred observed.

“I hope that’s a good thing, Fred!” Malala laughed, the others joining in.

“Oh, it is. Suzanne’s a dynamic, forceful leader. Maybe, while we’re in transit, we can get her on the radio and the two of you can talk for a while,” Fred suggested.

“That, and learning how to operate a tablet and laptop without hands,” Malala added drily.

“Oh, it can be done, Doctor. Just takes time and effort to do. I run things that way when I’m on duty. If an old sexton can learn, I have no doubts a young, smart doctor could learn very swiftly indeed,” Fred said in very positive, uplifting tones, which had its desired effect on the zebra.

“If’n ah may ask, Frick, what can we do about the Fly Lord?” Foster asked.

Frick didn’t hesitate in his reply. “We don’t know enough to ask the right questions. Let’s see what happens when the next delivery occurs. If we all don’t scatter in a blind panic, I’m sure I can come up with something.”

Just then, Fran’s voice came over the intercom. “Frieda, Frack, report to the bridge. Michie says a fly is coming.” she said.

The two summoned got up and headed upstairs. Frick looked at Malala. “Shall we go see, Doctor?” he asked.

“Yes,” the doctor said, getting up. “Michie’s far more sensitive to the flies than I am. If she feels a fly, one’s coming.” Together, they went upstairs.

Fred and Foster exchanged looks. No words were passed, but Foster went to the arms locker and pulled out the high-powered rifle while Fred went to the pilothouse and activated the gun systems. Bernie, for her part, went with Foster to the after deck. She understood why Fran didn’t call her, the Florida sun would wash out her distance vision.

Author's Note

Now in Fort Myers, last stop before the great big blue-water leaps to Key West, then Havana. The end is coming into view. But, more passengers for the last legs. Oh, wonderful...

Speaking of the Fly Lord, does anyone have a flyswatter the size of a semi-trailer? Maybe that would be enough to swat the Lord. Problem being, who can swing such a thing?

Bad news: No more pictures to show.
Good news: I can, at least, give descriptions of Malala and Michie.

Name: Doctor Malala Hutchins, M.D.
Age: Not sure. Early forties, maybe? She ain't saying.
Home town: Buffalo, NY
Species: Zebra
Occupation: Radiologist, Golisano Children's Hospital
Personality: Determined enough to survive Returning, but isn't a full command type, more a follower than a leader. Likes children, but never wanted any of her own. HATES cold and snow, and won't miss it. Learned Spanish in Little Havana while attending University of Miami. Always wears a doctor's coat and her hospital I.D. as a way to remember who she is.

Name: Michie!
Age: I'm THIS many! (holds up four fingers)
Species: Abyssinian
Talent: Has Abyssinian foresight, and quite powerful for her age. She never questions her visions, she KNOWS what she sees is happening or will soon happen, and depends on it for pre-warnings.
Other habits: Tends to be clingy, knowing she needs others around her. Now, she's chosen Fran, because she's a kitty lady, too!

Until next week, people!

Chapter 27: Facing Fright

Frick and Malala got to the bridge, where they joined Frack, Frieda, Fran and Michie, all of whom were looking northeasterly. The noses of the unicorn and zebra crinkled some at the scent of cooking pork and chicken, but that was soon forgotten as they joined the search for the fly.

Frack pointed with a wing. “I see it. Bearing zero-three-zero, range about nine miles, passing left to right.”

“I’m on it, too,” Frieda agreed. “Moving at a good clip.”

Frick broke out the bridge deck binoculars and raised them to one eye in his glow, his nose a little wide to use both eyes. He zoomed in on the fly. “Big bug,” he muttered. “Got some sort of gem in its front legs. Sparkly purple in the sunlight.”

“If I’m right, that fly is a lot bigger than the ones we saw in Saint Pete,” Frack observed.

“I would believe you, bro. You and Frieda, grab radios and track that thing. See where it goes and how close you can get to it,” Frick ordered.

“That fright aura could be there, too,” Malala put in. “I don’t feel it now, but I don’t know the range.”

“We’re on it, Frick,” Frieda said as she took the bridge radio. She already had her phone tucked into her vest.

“Keep in touch, Counselor. Don’t want either of you hurt,” Frick said as they headed down the stairs to the pier for takeoff. While they COULD have taken off from the bridge, there’s always a chance of clonking against the awning or getting tangled in the netting.

“Doctor Malala, Fran’s trying to make choweezo!” she said happily, going to hug the zebra’s legs.

“Do you mean ‘chorizo’, Michie?” Malala asked, nosing the top of Michie’s head.

“Yeah, that stuff! It's gonna be good when it’s done!” Michie said, leaning into the nuzzle.

“Chorizo? Think you can pull it off, Fran?” Frick asked.

“It’s not going to be perfect, but it will be close. Mi abuela showed me how to do this when I was young. Don’t have all the spices I need, but I think I can fake it well enough,” Fran said with confidence.

“May your palate be pleased, then. I’m sure you’ll want to bag at least one more pig before we leave, right?” Frick said with a bit of a forced smile as a puff of wind brought the cooking pork smells right to his nose.

“At least one, maybe two. Whatever we can get away with!” Fran said with confidence.

“Pork good! So’s sassage!” Michie added with a big smile.

“That’s ‘sausage’, Michie!” corrected all three adults simultaneously.

“Sassage!”

Frack and Frieda flew after the fly, which was flying straight, not fast, towards the Fort Myers airport, the pegasus and griffin easily closing the distance.

“I’m not feeling anything yet. How about you?” Frieda asked.

“All quiet on the eastern front here. I think that fly is bigger than we are, and bigger than the ones I saw. How can it fly at that size?” Frack asked in return

“Same way we do. Magic. It’s staying on course for the airport. That hangar on the north side,” Frieda pointed out as the doors quivered and started to move. As soon as the merest crack became visible to both fliers enhanced sight, the two immediately turned around and headed west at their best possible speed, Frack leaving Frieda behind and opening airspace every second.

When Frieda’s senses came back to her, she was closing in on the Deliverance’s location at maximum speed. Carefully, she applied ‘air brakes’, coming to a stop near the boat, then landing on the dock. Fred was the first one to meet her. “You all right, Maw?” he asked.

Frieda clung to Fred, shivering. “There is absolutely no way on God’s green earth or the skies above that I am going within five miles of that airport under any circumstances whatsoever!” she said in a shaky voice, but with enough determination that Fred had no doubt at all that she meant exactly what she said.

Fred sat down to give her a more stable support. “I won’t ask you to, and if Frick tries, I’ll clout him a good one myself,” he said quietly in her ear. “Where’s Frack?”

“I don’t know. He was ahead of me,” Frieda managed to say, shaking hard enough to jar some feathers loose.

“If we don’t hear from him soon, we’ll call. Right now, I prescribe some time in a dark cabin with me,” Fred told his wife of forty-plus years.

“Sounds good, don’t mind if we do,” was Frieda’s reply. Fred carefully guided her aboard the boat, down to the main cabin, drew all the curtains and laid her down on the big bed before curling up next to her, just holding her close. It took some time for Frieda’s shaking to stop.

Frick, still up on the bridge with Malala, Michie and Fran, watched Fred care for his wife. He didn’t say a word as Frieda was led back aboard the Deliverance. For Fred to have to do what he did, Frieda would have to be intensely shaken up, which does not happen often, not in the sixty-odd years they have known each other.

“LaForge to Enterprise, come in, please,” came over the radio.

Frick raised his radio. “This is the Captain, go ahead, Commander.”

“Captain, I’m a ways out to sea. How far, I don’t know. I don’t see land anywhere near me. Any suggestions?” Frack asked, his voice shaky.

Frick looked around, judging the sun’s position in the sky and the direction his brother was going when he bulleted over the boat. “Commander, put the sun to your right, pull for altitude and head east. I’ll see if Bernie can spot you and guide you in. Got it?” he said calmly, trying to settle his little brother down.

“Sun on my right, gain altitude, head east, watch for interceptor. Understood, Enterprise. LaForge out,” Frack said before shutting up.

Frick put his radio back around his neck and headed down the stairs, Malala following. He found Bernie in the saloon, Foster out checking the fueling system. “Bernie, need you to fly up and out to the west. Frack got himself lost,” he told the thestral.

Bernie nodded. “I heard over the pilothouse radio. No arguments, back as soon as I can. I saw Frieda. She’s downstairs with Fred,” she told the captain before heading out. Before taking off, she took a smoke marker from the emergency kit. She set it off at the end of the inlet the Deliverance was moored in, to mark the way back.

“You have a very fine crew here, Captain. It’s like you’re family,” Malala observed.

“In essence, we are, Doctor. Frack IS my little brother, while Fred and Frieda I have known since before kindergarten. Fran joined us in Nebraska, Foster in Louisiana a month or so back, and Bernie just last week up in Saint Pete. We all know by staying together and pooling resources, we increase our chances of survival,” Frick explained while going to the saloon fridge and pulling out a cold can of Vanilla Coke for when his brother returned.

“How long before we leave here?” Malala asked while getting herself some coffee.

“I want to say three days before we’re ready and set. Need to finish fueling, reprovision, grab some more stuff from the Wal-Mart, and hunt at least one more pig for the carnivores,” Frick replied as he set the can down on the saloon table. He stopped as an idea hit him. “I wonder- could Havana use a pig? We could get something in trade for a healthy sow piglet,” he mused.

“I would suggest you call ahead and ask, Captain,” Malala said drily. “Getting one intact will be hard. KEEPING it intact for the two days or more to get to Havana, even harder. Think about it.”

“You may have a point, Doctor. Let me think some more on that,” Frick said honestly before the radio came to life.

“Welder Seven to Cornhusker One. Have Cornhusker Four with me and we are returning to base,” Bernie said in flat tones.

Frick turned off his radio and used his glow to bring the pilothouse microphone to him. “Copy that, Welder Seven. What is the condition of Cornhusker Four?” he asked.

“Film at Eleven on NewsWatch Seven,” was the reply.

Frick gulped and paled a little. “ETA of your return?” he asked.

“Fifteen to twenty minutes, max. We’re taking it easy.”

“Right. We’ll be waiting. Cornhusker Base out.” Frick said, setting the mic down.

“You all right, Captain?” Malala asked.

“Maybe. The phrase ‘News at Eleven on NewsWatch Seven’ means she’ll tell me when they get back, and it may not be pleasant,” Frick explained as he went back to the saloon fridge, removed a can of Jolt Cola, opened it and chugged the can in twenty seconds. When he finished, he sat down on one of the saloon chairs. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

The zebra and unicorn kept up small talk until fifteen minutes later, Frack and Bernie landed on the pier and walked aboard. For his part, Frack picked up the can of VC, opened it, chugged it, then tossed the can into the trash receptacle in the corner before heading straight down to his cabin. His pupils were constricted the whole time. He didn’t say a word.

Frick then looked at Bernie. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a bottle of pureed mango and gave it to her. “Thank you, Captain,” she said as she held the bottle close to her, under a wing, to warm it before drinking.

“What do you think of Frack now, Bernie?” Frick asked.

“He’s had one hell of a shock, for sure. Let him get some rest, then have Fred look at him. I’m glad he would listen to me. He hasn’t said anything about it,” she reported, looking worried herself. She liked Frack, and seeing him like that disturbed her more than she wanted to admit.

“Maybe it would be good if he and Frieda forget about the trauma they went through. I’ve seen it happen. I will have to admit I’m a radiologist, not a psychologist,” Malala said, looking at the table.

Frick looked up as an idea hit him. “Psychologist. We know one. Doctor Margo Byrd. We rescued her and her kids when we were in Kansas City. I’ll see about giving her a call later on, if we think Frack needs the help,” he told Bernie and Malala.

“Good idea, Frick. Now, do you have any idea how we can keep an eye on the airport, to see what happens next? Two of the fliers, I’m sure, will not want to go there again!” Malala declared.

“We have a drone, but the airport is too far away to control or to even get signals from it. A mile or so, no problem,” Frick admitted. “Airport’s a lot farther than that.”

He was about to say something more, but Foster came in then, going straight for the coffee pot. “Fuelin’s stable, Frack. I’ll check it again in a couple of hours. How are they?”

“Scared out of their wits, Foster. I’ve never seen anyone that scared before,” Frack said. “You have any idea what to do in these cases, Sheriff?”

Foster held his coffee mug in his glow as he used a foreleg to rub the large green gem Queen Marie had given him. “You know, ah just might. Fred down with Frieda? Want to ask him a couple of questions befoah ah try anything.”

“He is. Can’t hurt to try, right?” Frick said.

“Only crime is not tryin’ when you should. Goin’ down swingin’ is okay, goin’ down lookin’ ain’t.” Foster said before taking a big gulp of black coffee.

“Didn’t know you followed baseball, Foster.”

“Have since I was a kid. My father was friends with Ron Guidry, and he taught me a thing or two about throwing a baseball,” Foster confessed. “Louisiana Lightning himself. Must be why ah can throw a rock or marble so well.”

“Why didn’t you try to turn pro?” Frick asked.

“One, ah had mah heart set on joinin’ the sheriff’s department, workin’ for mah grandfather. Two, while ah had an accurate fastball, it wasn’t the fastest. Never could get it up over eighty,” Foster explained. “Plus, by my sophomore year, ah was already married with one in the oven.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before, Foster,” Bernie said. “Hope your marriage was better than mine.”

“Oh, it was. Mahree and I, married thirty years, five fine boys, last count six grandbabies, she was happy. WE were happy. Until the day she didn’t wake up,” Foster said quietly. “Heart stopped in the night. Took two month’s leave, then back to bein’ Sheriff of Rapides Parish. My honor demanded it.” He finished his coffee, rinsed the cup, put it on the drying hook and went downstairs, as the other three just sat, letting the shock of the news pass over and through them.

“He’s said he has a personal honor code that gets him through life. I believe it now,” Frick said in low tones.

“Doctor MacInnes, back at the hospital, was like that, too. A personal honor code that inspires all that know him. Someone worthy of respect,” Malala said in low tones as well.

“Foster just earned mine, I can say that,” Bernie said before sipping her mango puree.

Foster, for his part, sprawled on the big bunk in what was technically Fran’s cabin, thinking on what he could do to help Frack and Frieda. He went through the processes he knew, and all he could come up with was that it would take a lot of time to figure out, and he did not know the two well enough to predict how they would respond to his therapy. With a sigh, he shut his eyes and relaxed. He could nap for an hour, trusting his internal alarm clock to wake him when he wanted to.

His eyes opened at the proper time. He got out of bed and headed upstairs, his mind whirling at some ideas that had come to him while he slept. “Frick, when Fred wakes up, have him talk to me, please. Ah have a few ideas that ah have to talk over with him,”

“What about, Foster?” Frick asked as Foster made his way through the saloon.

“An idea on how to keep the Fly Lord out of ouah manes until we is ready to leave heah. If’n we can find what we need, we can do it.”

“What will you need, Foster?” Frick asked.

“The biggest garden sprayer y’all can find, enough bottled water to fill it, and about forty pounds of table salt. Spray it through the crack in the hangar door, and he won’t be able to open the doors for a while. Long enough to leave us be,” Foster said, standing in the doorway.

“The doctor and I are going on a Wal-Mart run later today. I’ll do some looking. Deal?” Frick told his security officer.

“Sho ‘nuff, Captain. Also, grab a couple bottles of iodine. Adding that will be of help,” Foster added before going out to check how the fueling was proceeding.

Frick and Malala looked at each other, confused. “What did he mean by that?” she asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” Frick replied. “But, my instincts say to trust a sheriff. I trust him. Want to go on a Wal-Mart run? I’ll pull the wagon.”

“Sounds like a plan, Captain. What else should we get?” Malala asked.

“Camping gear. Even with one on duty during the night, in port, the watchstander can doze on the settee. That will make sleeping up here in the saloon difficult. If the weather is foul, we can work something out, but if it’s nice, setting up a couple of tents outside would be best,” Frick explained. “I’m sure you won’t want to sleep upstairs with the meat, right?”

“Point made, Captain,” Malala groaned, her nose wrinkling in remembered disgust.

When everyone gathered for dinner that night (which Fran cooked without quibble or question, wanting both Frack and Frieda to sleep as long as they wanted), Foster told them what his idea was. “What ah plan is to mix everything in the sprayer, pressurize it, then spray the salty water inside and in front of those hangar doors. That will keep the Fly Lord inside until the water dries. There should not be a delivery tomorrow, seeing as there was one today, so I should be able to get there and back unscathed.”

“You plan on going there yourself?” Frick asked, startled.

“If anyone wants to come, you is welcome to. Bernie, if you want to keep an eye on me, remain out of sight of the hangar doors. Frack and Frieda were in front of them, and whatever is inside came out and hit them with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer,” Foster advised. “Ah has protection from Queen Marie.” He brushed his big green gem with a foreleg.

“How do you propose to get the equipment there?” Fred asked.

“With the good doctor’s permission, ah would lahk to borrow her cart. The strapping arrangement is admirable, and it’s big enough foah the job. Lightweight, too.”

“If you think it would help, of course. Are you sure this will work?”

“As sure as I am bustin’ into a house to get hold of a hostage taker. Meaning, not at all. BUT, ah will have my version of ballistic armor and an almighty shotgun,” Foster replied with certainty. “Ah’ve been in law enforcement foah a long tahm. Ah’m not goin’ IN unless ah do mah damndest to stack the deck enough fo’ me to get OUT.”

“Spoken like a lawman,” Frack said from his place at the table.

“Yep, and one other thing. We had best be ready to set sail FIRST thing the next day, right after there’s light enough to see. I’ll do the job mid-afternoon, to allow enough tahm to get there and back,” Foster said before sighing. “Ah wish ah had mah patrol car, but if wishes were fishes we’d all be hippogriffs.”

“What’s a hippy-griff?” Michie asked. Fran and Frieda explained, Fran getting a tablet and showing some video of Renee, the hippogriff from Pensacola, and the two hippogriff foals.

“So it’s a fishy pony, right?” Michie asked after the lecture.

“You can say that,” Fred said in tones that stopped a why-fest from the little kitten.

“Okay!” she said, turning her attention to her mashed potatoes.

“Captain’s log, Stardate 0/1606.14 1300 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“Foster and Bernie are on their way to deal with the Fly Lord, Fred, Fran, Malala and Michie are doing a last-minute Wal-Mart run, and Frack and Frieda are out hunting pigs. They’ve already bagged one and are trying for another. For my part, I’m enjoying the peace and quiet while I have it. Michie is a beautiful, wonderful little girl, with the curiosity of an entire first-grade class wrapped up in one little black-furred kitten. Her constant ‘Why?’ and ‘What’s this?’ CAN strain one’s patience, but her hugs, smiles and love for all of us, especially Fran and Malala, make up for it.

“I’ll have to stow the purification gear, then arrange the camping gear storage up on the bridge. Tent’s set up pierside. Fran and Michie camped there last night, allowing the doctor a night’s uninterrupted sleep for the first time in a long time. I get this feeling that Fran and Michie are going to be nearly impossible to separate. So long as both are happy, I’ll keep my nose out of it.

“Back to work for me. I’ll be sure to call in later and let you know how it all came out, Sandra. Frick out.” He did the save and send, then went outside to do clean-up. A messy job, but he won’t shirk it. Just because he’s captain doesn’t mean he can’t do the jobs his crew do.

About a mile away from the airport, Foster unhitched from the cart and started adding salt to the water in the sprayer, using the spray nozzle to stir the water to get the salt to dissolve. After getting the salt mixed, he added the two bottles of iodine. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Bernie asked when he was done.

Foster sighed as he fastened the cap down, then worked the pump handle with his gold glow, pressurizing the unit. “The one thing ah’m sure about is that this has to be done, to ensure we escape tomorrow mornin’ unscathed. Do ah want to do this? Hell, no, ah don’t want to, but Queen Marie has told me she can protect me from the fright projection. Ah trust her, she trusts me.”

“Do you trust yourself not to go into a blind panic like Frieda and Frack did?” Bernie asked.

“As a sheriff, you learn about fear. How to know it and how not to show it. Many a criminal has given up because I walked raht up to them and took their weapon out of their hands, or had mah pistol aimed raht between their eyes and showed every indication that ah was gonna put a round there. Show no fear an’ keep them guessin’,” the ex-sheriff explained. “Learned that from mah granpappy.”

“You said I should not be in front of the place, right?”

“Would be smart. From what we heard from Frack and Frieda, they saw the door start to open, and they fled without hesitating. Why an’ how that happened, damned if ah know for sure. If there are any windows up on the roof, don’t go near or above them. Maybe the walls and doors can stop the fear from comin’ out, but maybe glass can’t,” Foster advised.

“If I suddenly bolt for home, you’ll know why,” Bernie said in tones so dry, dust bunnies shriveled.

“Ah won’t hold that against you, Bernie. Now, if I PASS you, be concerned, okay?” Foster countered as he got the cart hooked up to his harness again.

“Good luck, Foster,” Bernie said with sincerity as she took off.

“Thank you, ah’s gonna need it.”

Foster strode up to the hangar doors, trying to decide where to shove the sprayer nozzle in. Pausing some yards off, he took the spray nozzle in his glow and worked the pump handle to get as much pressure as he could in the sprayer. When that was done, he cautiously advanced.

A crack started showing between the hangar doors as they started to open. He called upon his link to Queen Marie and prepared a shielding spell against the fright wave. Surrounded in his golden glow, he got to the opening doors and started spraying. “Take that, you son of a bitch!” he shouted, bracing against the waves of fright that seeped through his shield.

Bernie, hovering up above the roof (which had no windows), could hear Foster’s shouts, curses and whatnot from her spot without any problem at all. This went on for a couple of minutes before she heard, “Good buddy, you may get me, but brother let me tell ya, that yer gonna have to catch me first!” Peeking past the edge of the roof, she saw him take the sprayer in his glow, remove the cap and pitch what remained towards the building before he spun, releasing the cart from its hitch, and setting off at a gallop not away from the building, but across it, getting out of the ‘line of fire’ but not slacking his pace. She took off after him, just catching a little bit of the fright beam before the doors shut.

Author's Note

Well, well. What's going on with the Fly Lord? What is he doing in that hangar? What are those bright purple crystals? Where are the big flies? For the answers to these and other questions, tune in for the next episode! Same fly-day, same fly-channel!

Suddenly, a loud scream is heard, followed by the sound of a whip cracking, more than once Desmond, how many times have I told you? I handle this one, you do the EC stories!

Just keeping in practice, Writer! Been a while since the last EC chapter came out!

Good point. Note to the readers- I will be flying to Texas from 6 Dec 21 until 11 Jan 22. A friend needs help. I may skip a Thursday or two, not sure, will inform. But for sure, a chapter next week!

Chapter 28: The Flies Have It or The Ones That Go Flirt

Foster Hardegan, former Sheriff of Rapides Parish, Louisiana, now a burly white and gold unicorn, cautiously approached the doors to the hangar of Precision Sky Aviation Services, salt water spray nozzle held tightly in his glow, ready to pull the trigger as soon as he could get an opening. “Open the dayumn door! Got delivery for you!” he thought.

Slowly, the hangar doors cracked apart and opened a bit. The power of the aversion spell literally felt like a stiff wind blowing in Foster’s face through the crack. “Took her long enough. Start the delivery,” he heard in his head.

Foster activated the defensive spell Queen Marie had taught him through the mental link, causing his aura to flare up around him, surrounding him with a golden glow. “Take that, you son of a bitch!” he shouted as he started spraying, keeping the pressure in the tank high, sending iodine-laced salt water into the building and onto the fly-man-demon-whatever-the-hell-it-was. “If ah may ask, just what are ya doin’ in theah? Why the fright field?” he asked telepathically while he spoke a torrent of curses and whatnot.

“The maggots gather corrupted magic and concentrate it, bringing it here so Scylla cannot get to it and use it. While its presence here is minimal, I will do all I can to keep it out of this area. Marie is doing something similar in her lands, via a different method,” came into Foster’s mind. “Thank you for the iodide. Trace mineral that helps me.”

“Will you be all right, continuing your mission?” Foster asked.

“I will. Thank you for asking. Now, to avoid suspicion, thin out your shield and act naturally. I will let Queen Marie know of your honor,” the fly sent to Foster.

“You got it. Thank you!” Foster sent as he started feeling terror seep into his awareness. This is a bad place, go away, nothing to be seen here, get the livin’ hell OUT OF HERE NOW! He picked up the sprayer in his glow and removed the lid. Tossing the contents inside, he shouted “Good buddy, you may get me, but brother let me tell ya, that yer gonna have to catch me first!” before turning to the left and bolting, disconnecting the cart from the harness as he galloped off, feeling the terror chase him as he sprinted along the building, through the parking lot, to the road and away from the airport, mind filled with fright and overflowing out his ears.

The next thing Foster knew, he was standing in water up to his barrel in a small pond, shaking, steaming and panting, foam and sweat dripping off of him. “What in bloody hell happened?” he asked no one in particular when his mind decided to return back to his brain from wherever it had taken off to for a while.

“You tell me and we’ll both know,” Bernie said as she landed on the shore of the pond.

“Ah don’t remember a thing after the door started openin’' Foster panted. “Did the plan work?”

“Not exactly. Apparently, your Queen Marie’s shielding spell wasn’t quite up to scratch,” Bernie said drily as Foster used his glow to scoop up some pond water and rinse himself off.

“Well, she did say it wasn’t going to last long. Guess it didn’t last long enough,” Foster said as he climbed out of the pond and shook himself dry.

“Want to take the roads home, or do you think you’re up to short cuts?” Bernie asked.

Foster took several deep breaths. “Ah think ah can handle short cuts. Gonna have to apologize to Doctor Malala for losin’ her cart,” he said, feeling a little guilty.

“I’m sure she’ll get over it. Let’s get going,” Bernie said, taking wing.

When Bernie and Foster returned to the Deliverance, Foster told everypony there that he was going to nap in the tent until dinner, thank you very much. Bernie was asked by the crew what happened, and she told what she knew. “I just caught a tiny piece of what you encountered, Frieda. May I never feel that again.”

“Full on is a lot worse. I remember it happening, then nothing until I felt Fred put his arms around me. At least you remember it touching you and your escape,” Frieda commented from the galley, where she was making cornbread muffins, a favorite of Foster’s.

“I’m going to set watches tonight. Bernie, I want you to take the midnight to four, and I’ll take the four to eight. I’ll tell Foster to take the eight to twelve. That way, we can be heading out within an hour after sunrise and proceed straight to Key West,” Frick told Bernie and Frieda, Frack napping down in the cabin and the others not yet back from ‘shopping’.

“I can do that,” Bernie said. “I can nap while Foster’s on watch, then help break down and stow the camping gear before we set off. How’s the fuel state?”

Frick smiled. “Full up all around, and I ran off an extra ten gallons we can use to top up the aux tanks before setting out. Gear’s all stowed, so that’s out of the way.”

“It’s been a fun six months getting this far,” Frieda said as she put a pan of muffins in the oven. “What are we going to do with the boat?”

“If we can’t take her with us to Europe, then we will find her a good home in Havana. I admit I’ll miss her, and all the work we have put into care, feeding and maintenance, but I’m sure she’ll find good uses. Havana Harbor Patrol, maybe?” Frick said with optimism.

“We can but hope,” Frieda said, checking the vegetable stew pot before going upstairs to see to the pork and fish for the carnivore’s dinner. “Take the muffins out when the timer dings if I’m not down by then.”

“Will do, Frieda,” Bernie and Frick chorused. They both enjoyed her corn muffins, and didn’t want to let them burn!

That night, over dinner, Frick outlined his plans for the night and tomorrow morning. “We have two options right now, follow the coast to Naples or Marco Island before heading for Key West, or just head right out to sea without hesitating. Opinions?” he asked his crew.

Fred looked at Frick. “What can we possibly find there that we don’t already have?” he asked.

“Nothing I can think of,” Frick admitted. “Guess I’m still nervous about blue-water sailing. If I was truly paranoid, I would just follow the shore to the Keys, but I’m not that far gone yet.”

“Following the shore will give Frieda and I time to finish work on the pork bits, getting them ready for storage. Plus, I got a load of spices to make proper chorizo,” Fran said.

“Point to you, Fran. Frack, weather update?” Frick asked.

Frack looked thoughtful as he consulted his ‘weather sense’. “Scattered storms, especially in the afternoon. High pressure will move in from the west late tomorrow night, allowing for fair skies for the next few days,” he advised.

“Will any of the storms be on our course?” Frick asked.

“I can’t say a definite yes or no, but I can say there IS a chance of it. From this distance in time, I can’t be sure,” Frack admitted.

All this time, Michie sat on a cushion in the corner, having had her tuna salad up on the bridge earlier, in deference to the ponies. She had a corn muffin and a Coke at hand, and she was tooting on a toy flute she had picked up while shopping. The same five notes, again and again. Fortunately, it was not annoying anyone.

Malala, however, picked up on it. “Michie, what are you playing?” she asked.

“What I’m feelin’ in my head, Aunt Malala,” the kitten replied as she went back to playing the same piece of music.

Frick looked at the little black kitten, nodding as he listened to the notes. “Does anyone else recognize that?” he asked.

Fred and Frieda looked at each other. “I know I have heard it before, but it’s not coming to mind,” Frieda said.

Bernie shook her head. “I don’t know it.” The rest of the group all shook their heads.

Frick nodded his head to the music as Michie played it a few more times before jumping in. “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip..”

Fran jumped right in. “That started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship…” she sang in a much better voice than Frick.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in light of this, I suggest we spend tomorrow taking a beach day in Naples before doing the big jump. All those in favor?” Frick asked. The resounding, unanimous AYE! knocked him off his seat to the floor.

“So carried…” Frick groaned before going limp, having smacked his head on the way down.

The next day, shortly after the crack of dawn (which was patched by full sunlight), with everything stowed securely, Frick piloted the Deliverance out to sea. About a quarter-mile offshore, he turned the boat to the southeast and went to full throttle. He, and everyone else aboard, wanted to be as far away from Fort Myers as they could. The stout little boat agreed with its crew.

At nine in the morning, with Fred at the helm, the Deliverance pulled into a pier on the south side of Gordon Pass, an entry into Naples Harbor. They chose there because if the weather did go foul, there was a ‘windbreak’ of trees and buildings between the sea and the dock. A small patch of beach close by served their purposes well, although Michie did ask to go ‘see the BIG water’ for a while. Once she was happy from looking at the waves, she readily agreed to go to the other side, where Fran took her ‘fishing’ off the pier. Foster and Malala went swimming, Frieda, Frack and Bernie hunting (not that they expected to find anything), Fred fished with Fran, and Frick did what he wanted to do- nap on the beach, in the sunlight, just chilling.

The fliers headed south, enjoying the sunshine and warmth, exploring the island they were pausing at. Frieda spotted the odd motion first in a clearing. “Chickens!” she squawked with joy, pointing a claw in their direction.

Bernie and Frack spotted the flock as well. “Want to try for some?” Frack asked.

“Let’s try for two, but, let’s find their nests. Anyone for eggs? REAL eggs, not the dehydrated crap?” Frieda suggested.

“Sounds good! I’ll go get a carry basket, you two go find the eggs, okay?” Bernie suggested before pivoting on a wingtip and returning to the boat.

“She thought of something I didn’t,” Frieda admitted. “I’ll catch a couple of hens, you hunt for the nests.”

“Right,” Frack agreed. “You can wring a neck better than I can!”

By the time Bernie returned, Frack and Frieda were waiting out of sight of the flock, two plump hens and a nest full of eggs with them. “We got lucky,” Frieda explained after Bernie landed with the basket, “They were not afraid of ponies or griffins.”

“Hope you know how to pluck them. I sure don’t,” Bernie said as she gave Frieda the basket.

“Oh, she does,” Frack confirmed. “Remember, we’re Nebraska farm folk. While none of us were farmers, we all grew up either on or near them. Think we can handle some fried chicken?”

“We’ll find out!” Bernie said with a laugh as Frieda put the chickens in the basket, the nest going on top.

“Back to the boat for some fun work!” Frieda shouted as she took off, the basket held carefully in a claw.

“We’ll meet you there in a while, Frieda! We won’t be much help to you!” Frack said as he grabbed air. “Flight check time, Bernie!”

“Coming, Frack!” Bernie replied joyfully, a mere wingbeat behind.

The pegasus and thestral spent a happy hour free flying before hunger urged them home, enjoying the sun, wind, flying in general and each other’s company. Hunger, and a radio call from Frieda, saying she’s making three-egg omelets for everyone.

During lunch, clouds started moving in from the west. By mid-afternoon, the clouds were thick and black, with lightning visible. When asked, Frack told everyone that the storms will take about ninety minutes to pass over heading east, skies clearing and calming well before sunset.

“What about tomorrow?” Frick asked.

“Almost identical to today. Clear in the morning, clouding up starting around noon, heavy rains from two to four, then clearing. Pattern should be remaining stable for the next few days,” Frack reported. “Got something in mind, bro?”

Frick nodded, then whistled to get everyone’s attention, both in the saloon and downstairs. “Now hear this! All hands and hooves prepare for setting sail at the first light of dawn! That means tents are to be broken down and stored starting at three a.m.! Bernie, you have the midnight watch, I’ll take over at four. With fortune and favor, we will make Key West by mid-afternoon, flipping the feather to whatever the weather has planned! Any questions or comments?” he called out to all.

“Little chancy, settin’ out before dawn,” Foster said from the galley. “May ah suggest somethin’?”

“Go ahead, Sheriff. I always take advice,” Frick replied.

“When we all set out in the dark of dawn, ah suggest we put Bernie up on the bridge to act as a lookout until full daylight. With her low-light-seeing ability, that should give us all an edge,” Foster said to the group.

“What do you think, Bernie?” Frick asked, looking at the thestral, who was sitting next to Frack, who had a wing over her.

“I think Foster spoke before I could. I was thinking the same thing. Sounds like a good idea to me. I can wake everyone up, see to the tent storage, then settle upstairs as we pull out. One of the better bird-brained ideas I’ve heard since arriving,” Bernie answered, the last part flippantly, looking at Frack.

“Who’re you calling bird-brained, you batty biddy?” Frack countered, holding her a little tighter, a smile on his face.

“Think about it. You’re not dumb!” Bernie laughed.

Frick had to smile as well. His little brother had never been one to have a relationship with girls, ever since he lost his foot as a teenager. To see him flirting with Bernie, and her responding in kind, made him feel a whole lot better about Frack than he had been for a long time. “Okay, then, that’s the plan of the day. So long as someone takes the watch, have fun until dinnertime. I’m going downstairs to see if I can contact someone at HQ who can get me a number for Havana. Now that we’re this close, time to see what we’re getting into.”

“Kick back and put your hooves up, Frick,” Fred told his friend. “I’ll take the load today.”

“Thanks, Fred. Call me for dinner. Have fun, ponies and others! Take the chance while it’s here!” Frick called out as he went downstairs, his bottle-brush tail twirling happily.

Author's Note

Getting down to the short strokes here, not far to go before Havana, meeting up with the WSU, and off to Rotterdam. But of course, it's not going to be smooth sailing...

Now that the Fly Lord is 'disposed of', what's next for the crew and passengers of the Deliverance? Come back next week and see!

Will be in Texas starting Monday for a few weeks. Should not interfere with my output. Much. I hope. We'll see.

Tell me what I'm doing right in the comments section below. I'd like to find out.

Chapter 30: The Dragon In The Doorway

The glowing shape revealed itself to be not a dragon, which all had read about but have not seen yet, but a female gargoyle, dressed in a crudely-stitched mylar sheet poncho. “What do you know, fresh faces! I’m Tina Kovacs, originally from Philadelphia, lately of NAS Key West. Who are you, how did you get here, and what are you looking for?” she asked, once out in the light and dousing her own.

Fran took the lead, having seniority over Foster. “I’m Fran Vasquez, Technical Officer of the motor vessel Deliverance, currently moored at the marina, where we arrived about an hour ago. With me are Foster Hardegan, ship’s security officer, Doctor Malala Hutchins, and Michie,” she said, indicating everyone as their name was mentioned. “We were hoping to scavenge some supplies. Porridge, pork and goat get tiresome after a while.”

“Pork? Goat? Not out of a can, right?” Tina asked, startled.

“We have some chicken, too. Caught a couple yesterday and baked them on our way here. Good thing the seas were calm,” Fran commented as Michie darted up to Tina, arms spread for a hug, her too-big tee-shirt flapping. A hug that arrived swiftly, as Tina picked up Michie, who settled into her embrace.

“Well, if Michie likes her, she can’t be bad,” Malala observed.

“Nope, not me. Glad to see someone new, though. Just been Harry and me here for a few months. He’s at the supply office. That’s what his job was here,” Tina said, snugging Michie, who rubbed up against her happily.

“Harry?” Foster asked.

“Harry Bell, an aviation stores keeper first class here at NAS Key West,” Tina told them. “Want to come in and look around?”

“Well, since you offer, I would like that!” Fran said in a loud, penetrating voice. “What would the Captain say?”

“The Captain says it’s a fantastic idea, and if Tina and Harry would like, have them come over for dinner tonight. On the menu will be chicken, Frieda’s version of lasagna for ponies, and corn muffins. Get back early with the goods so she can start cooking, okay?” came Frick’s voice from the radio on Fran’s hip.

Tina’s eyes went wide as she leapt up, her wings grabbing air and hovering some, holding tight onto Michie, who giggled with joy at her holder’s startle. “What the hell?” she shouted as she came back to the ground.

Foster took up the explanation. “Simple. It’s a policy they set up months ago. When theah’s an away team out and about, especially in unknown territory, one of us carries a radio that constantly transmits on one frequency, which is monitored on the boat. Enables us to respond faster to any problems.”

“Plus, we can all laugh about it later, right?” Frick said. “Do you and Harry like coffee?”

“Yes, but we have no power, and every time we’ve tried with a percolator, it’s like Hell’s own mess. We never cared for camping out,” Tina explained.

“Well, we have real coffee, real sugar and fake milk. Also, here’s a word from my Second Officer and lead cook,” Frick said before the mic was passed from one to another.

“Fran, if we’re going to have company tonight, double all the amounts and get your backside back here within two hours so we can eat before it gets dark!” Frieda snapped.

“Right, Frieda. Snickers bars are up on the fly bridge, seat three, right side towards the bottom. Have one, Frieda, you’re getting cranky!” Fran retorted.

“Good idea! Cornhusker Base out!” Frieda said.

“Cornhusker Five clear,” Fran said to her radio before putting it back on her hip. “So, shall we shop? Frieda’s not herself when she’s hungry.”

Tina grinned as she led the crew into the Exchange building. “Something tells me we’re going to get along quite well!” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah!” Michie agreed.

Late that afternoon, Tina and Harry (a gray and red pegasus with dirty white wings and light brown mane and tail, with a cutie mark that looks like a pigeonhole cabinet) joined the Deliverance crew for dinner, set up on tables outside on the pier. Clouds were building, but to the north. Frack and Harry both agreed the rain will miss them for now, and would not arrive until long after sunset. They had found out that finely shredded chicken will serve for pegasi, so long as it was mixed well with other stuff. Only the carnivores could enjoy a good chomp of a chicken leg.

The ‘natives’ told the visitors that they had been there since around January, they figure. They knew that some others had passed through before they arrived, but they had little inclination to leave. The reason why was startling. “Over on Stock Island, at night, the hermit crabs come out. Big hermit crabs. The smallest are about the size of my hoof,” Harry explained.

“The biggest ones are bigger than we are,” Tina went on. “Fortunately, a very simple barricade works to keep them off Key West. They hang around the Stock Island Dump. That’s where they find additional bits and such for their shells.”

“What do the biggest ones use for shells?” Malala asked.

The answer was double-barreled in nature. “Cars.”

“Oh, what fun…” Foster commented.

“You said it,” Harry said bitterly. “Every day, before nightfall, we check the wire barrier on the access road to Dredger Key. Any hermit crab big enough to be a threat won’t go through the water, they get stuck in the mud. We cleared out the crabs when we first woke up here and have not had much trouble since.”

“That and some rooftop sniping with an M-60,” Tina added. “If I take my time, I don’t miss. The rifle barrel glows and I hit my target where I’m aiming at. Now, if I hurry, I can shoot a few wild ones.”

Frick thought about those words. “Seems like you’re casting a spell to improve your aim, Tina. From what I know about gargoyles, it’s entirely possible. I’ve taught myself a few useful spells,” he told her.

“Same with me,” Foster said. “I got me a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You’ve mentioned others,” Harry asked. “What can you tell us about them?” That led to a description of the World Seafarer’s Union and how they are hurrying to meet them in Havana, which led to a longer description of why Havana.

“Lightning struck our antenna yesterday, so we can’t talk to or hear them. Hope to find a replacement here tomorrow,” Frick grumbled.

“Let me take a look at it. I could have something like it in Stores. If not marine, then aviation rated,” Harry offered. “First thing in the morning? Right now, I’m enjoying the company AND the dinner a little much,” he said as he took a corn muffin and smeared some maple syrup inside it.

“Sounds like an idea to me,” Frick agreed. “Where do you live up here?”

“In the Exchange building. Upstairs, in the furniture section. Once we ventilated the place, it’s actually quite comfortable, groceries are not far away, and we each have a place for ourselves, out of sight from each other,” Harry explained after eating the corn muffin.

“We’re friends, and knew each other before, but not well,” Tina said after some chicken. That’s why they were eating outdoors, the carnivores were downwind so as not to nauseate the herbivores. “Took a little bit to figure out who each of us was, and to prove it.”

“What did you do down here Before, Tina?” Frieda asked.

“I was a helicopter instructor pilot, while Harry was the squadron stores keeper. We’ve both been in the Service for a while, because we liked what we did, right?” Tina asked across the table.

“Damn straight, Tina. Being a stores keeper suits me, while getting wings suits you more. I like flying, you live it,” Harry said after another corn muffin.

“Got that right. I’m glad I was sent here after getting shot down over Afghanistan a few years back. Broke a lot of bones, was torn up real bad, but I survived, was put together again, and was sent here to teach others how to fly. Learning to fly with these wings was a chore,” Tina told the group.

“How many star-cluster impacts?” Malala asked.

“Seven, before it got through my head that while I can fly, I am not exactly nimble up there. To be precise, I fly like a gargoyle,” Tina said ruefully.

“Too bad the hangar is back on Boca Chica Key. I could show you the dent in the door,” Harry said, earning himself a dirty look from Tina as the Deliverance crowd laughed.

“Don’t feel too bad, Tina,” Frieda said once she stopped chuckling. “I damn near tipped over our first boat when I first took wing. It was Frick’s old pontoon boat. Good for summer fishing, not for winter sailing.”

“Yeah. I almost went for a flight that day, into the Juliana’s roof!” Frick said, which eased Tina’s ire.

“You and me both, Frick,” Fred said from his place at the table. “Sailing’s bad enough, but flying? Not for me,” he said, shaking his head.

“So, you said you wanted to find an antenna, right, Frick?” Harry asked.

“What are the odds you could lay your hooves on one I could use to replace the one we toasted?” Frick asked.

“Tell you what. You dismount the thing tonight and I’ll look at it tomorrow. Odds are I can find something we can use in the warehouse. If not, well, there are a lot of boats, right?” Harry said, gesturing with a wing at the scattered boats tied up at the marina.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Frick said, looking at Fran. “That will be your job, Fran. You handle ladders much better than I do.”

“No problem, Frick. Should not take too long to do,” Fran replied.

“So, meet up here tomorrow morning? What time?” Tina asked.

Frick thought for a moment, looking at his crew, getting a consensus by glance. “What time do you two usually wake? With the dawn or after?” he asked their ‘hosts’.

“After,” Harry said. “About an hour or so. We both tend to be up with the sun and down with it. Only suggestion is to make sure you have rat guards on the lines and put everything away. The little hermits do get everywhere at night, but they are mostly harmless. The ones you have to worry about are over on Stock Island, and we’ve blocked the ways over.”

“Sounds good to me. Crew, do you want to set a duty watch, or use duty ashore rules?” Frick asked. “Setting up the tents could be a bit chancy.”

Foster spoke up next. “Tina, is there space for two or more at the Exchange building?”

“Easily. There are some bed displays that have not been used. We’re going to need some more lights, too. What are you thinking of, Foster?” Tina asked in return.

“Crash space foah myself, Malala, Fran and Michie. The other five stay aboard here. We’ll meet for breakfast, whichever group that wakes first and gets there starts the cooking. How’s that idea, Captain?” Foster offered.

“Sounds like a winner to me, Foster. We can spend a couple of days here, fixing and fueling before heading for Havana.” Frick then turned to Tina and Harry. “Want to join us? Who knows when someone else will be here.”

There was no hesitation. “We’ll go with you, Frick,” Tina said firmly. “We miss the companionship of others. If we don’t want to stay in Havana, maybe these WSU folk will be willing to take us on.”

“I’m sure they will,” Frack said firmly, startling Frick and Fred. “They’re critically short of manpower. Bringing along all we have found along the Gulf will add forty or so more people to the cause, half of them children. They will need new parents, and everyone will bring skills to add to the pool. Lots of empty houses in Maasvlakte. We can all work together to get some habitable for us, right?”

“Sounds good to me, Frack!” Bernie said, putting a wing around Frack and hugging a little.

“Gee, Bernie, I didn’t know you cared so much!” Frack exclaimed.

“Don’t let appearances fool you…” Bernie countered sarcastically, causing most everyone to start laughing.

Bright and early the next morning, the shore contingent made it to the Deliverance, setting up the tables and starting breakfast. Frick, who took the duty that day, did not wake up when they came aboard, sleeping soundly through the setting up phases, nose finally twitching when the first pot of coffee started dripping into the pot. “Damn, must have been more tired than I thought,” he observed, sitting up and accepting a cup of coffee from Foster.

“Busy day yesterday. You successfully navigated us here. Musta been built-up stress,” Foster said from the galley, where he was mixing up pancake batter.

“More than likely. Are you ready to defend me from the ire of the others?” Frick yawned as he brought the ship’s microphone to him. In reply, a golden glow spread across the stairs down to the cabins. “That will work,” he said with a shrug as he keyed the mic.

“Now, reveille, reveille, up all bunks!” he called, his voice going through the PA system. From below came a combined neigh and squawk, then Frieda came charging up the steps, only to get caught in Foster’s glow.

“Calm down, Maw, we all overslept!” came Fred’s voice from below, and Frieda stopped struggling.

“I’m going to get you for this…” she hissed, glaring at Frick.

“You’re doing up the spaghetti dinner tonight, Frieda. You and Fred have ship duty while the rest of us look about,” Frick said with a trace of smug.

Frieda nodded. “True. I lost, fair and square. Besides, I can get the galley done right after this Cajun crazy finishes messing it up!”

“If yuh fahnd anythin’ messed up, ah’ll eat mah boots!” Foster said from the galley.

“You don’t wear any boots, Foster!” Frieda snapped.

“That means they’re as good as a wish sandwich, raht? Goes down easy!”

Author's Note

A little short this week, yes. There are reasons.

As you know, I'm in Texas, with a friend whose father was hospitalized. He passed away yesterday morning. Things came to a screeching halt. Now to pick up the pieces.

I may put up a chapter next week, or it may go up the week after. I have thoughts to organize and a friend to help. They take priority. I know WHAT I want to do here in Key West. The trouble is getting it done.

I hope this fluffy little chapter is as entertaining as the rest. More action and danger next chapter.

To Jerry Johnson ,1938-2021 (somewhere in there)

Chapter 31: Per-cussion!

After a happy, hearty breakfast, the crew split up to handle boat chores. Fred and Frieda took boat duty, because Frieda is to be cooking up a feast that day. Frick, Fran and Harry went to the bridge to have Fran dismount the lightning-struck antenna. Harry looked it over closely. “Yes, I have seen several like this in the stores building,” he declared after inspecting the ruins. “Give me until about lunch to dig some out. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me, Harry. Take one of the radios and give yourself a call sign. Check in if you think you’re going to be late,” Frick ordered.

“My call sign is ‘Keymaster’, because a storekeeper’s symbol is two crossed keys. Just take one from the charger?” Harry asked.

“That’s right. The boat’s call sign is ‘Cornhusker Base’, and I’m ‘Cornhusker One’. Most everyone else has some derivative of ‘Cornhusker’, because the first five of us are from Nebraska.” Frick explained.

“I can see that. Let me get going. Early out, sooner back,” Harry said in upbeat tones before heading down to the saloon for a radio. As Fran and Frick put the tools away, they saw Harry taking off.

Down on the pier, Frack and Bernie were hooking up the fuel pump and filter, with Tina watching closely. That chore took a little while, because it took some effort to get suction started on the fuel intake line, and once going, the fuel took longer to pump. Turned out the fuel was more ‘broken down’ than usual, and they had to change filters more often. The output was judged adequate, and so it was added to the tanks, with added Sea Foam.

“That’s all it takes to clean gas?” Tina asked, amazed at the ease of the job.

“That’s it, for when you want to do small amounts, like for the boat’s tanks. Now, to do this for a city-size generator, it takes more apparatus. We don’t need all that stuff. Just remember to use different apparati for gasoline, diesel and water. You don’t want to get them mixed up,” Frack explained to Tina.

“I see. How about we head for the Exchange, and see what we can find that would be of use, like maybe portable shortwave radios?” Tina suggested.

“Good idea. In fact, let’s see if anyone else wants to explore,” Frack suggested. As it turned out, everyone not on duty was interested, so off the group went to the Exchange. There, Frick did find several shortwave radios that were battery-operated, and some batteries to put in them. It wasn’t long before the group heard Sandra, or DJ WSU as she was known as, go to her three-thirty newscast. The group found out that the Fugro Symphony had left Belfast the day before on its way to Havana, estimated time of arrival there July First.

Sandra also said, “If the Deliverance crew is listening, please check in. You called in two days ago saying your antenna was struck by lightning, and nothing since. Just want to make sure you’re alright, Fearsome Foursome plus however many!” before going on to other news.

“She’s right, I do owe her a call,” Frick said. “I’ll wait an hour and a half. She goes off shift at five her time, which is eleven here. That way, we won’t go live on air, she can edit.”

“She would appreciate that, plus call Captain Skinner on the Fugro to let him know about the others to pick up on the return trip,” Frack advised.

“And we have to call Eduardo back in Havana at least once before we leave. We can tell him that we may wait here a couple of days to fix the antenna before heading over,” Fran added. “Plus let him know we’re taking care of the eggs he ordered. We better not take too long, or we may wind up delivering a dozen peeps.”

“Jeez, you folk sure do know how to ruin a captain’s morning off, don’t you?” Frick mock-complained peevishly.

“That’s the duty of a crew, to give the boss ulcers. Ah oughta know,” Foster commented drily.

Over lunch, Harry showed the crew the antenna clusters he found that should work for the Deliverance. Frick looked them over, and compared them to the schematics that came with the ship. He held up the first of the two Harry had brought. “This should do the job. Fran, after lunch, you, Bernie and Frack look into replacing the antenna. I’ve already called Rotterdam, and later on I have to call Captain Skinner on the Fugro. Frieda, call Governor Quiros back and resume negotiations. Have Fran help you once comms are restored. Fred, you have the duty. The rest of you, take the day off and sightsee. Tomorrow, we’ll finish up and the day after, we’re Havana bound!” he told the crew.

“Frick, Fran, Malala and I have already done that. We did it last night,” Frieda told her captain.

Frick blinked. “How did you manage that?” he asked.

“You went to bed early. I flew over to the Exchange building and we called Eduardo. Pending final approval, we got ourselves one sweet deal,” Frieda said with certainty.

“How sweet?” Frack asked.

“We retain possession of Deliverance until Fugro ties up. Once we have moved our gear to the Fugro, we will turn the ship over to the Harbor Patrol division, who have enough skilled mariners and engineers to run the ship properly. In exchange, we are to be given one TEU of mixed goods we can deal with as we wish, said TEU being filled with canned goods, cigars, fish, ten barrels of rum and other produce to take with us to Rotterdam over and above what the Fugro is expected to deliver,” Frieda reported.

“Also, I will be remaining in Havana,” Malala told the group. “They need a doctor there. I’m a doctor, I speak Spanish fluently, and it does not get cold. I will be staying. It will be up to me to set up a decent clinic there for the colony. It’s a challenge I’m looking forward to.”

“What about Michie?” Frick asked, blindsided by the news.

“She will be staying with me,” Fran said. “I will willingly be her ‘big sister’, and make sure to raise her right.” She put an arm over Michie’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Michie, in turn, looked up at Fran with love in her eyes.

“Fred and I talked about it this morning. We agree to be Michie’s ‘aunt and uncle’. She likes the idea, and so do we,” Frieda said, gripping Fred’s hoof.

“Okay, any other chores of mine you have attended to?” Frick asked rhetorically.

“I called Pensacola and Tarpon Springs to give them a head’s-up,” Fred reported. “Once we have left Havana and our course is determined, we’ll have to call them back so they can pack and make ready for pickup, leaving their places in as good a condition as they can, for those who come later.”

“Jeez, have you left anything for me to do?” Frick asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yes,” Fred said firmly. “Make sure the radio is working properly. After that, you are to take the next day and a half off, get out of here, and chill out. You earned it and you NEED it!”

Frick held up a hoof. “Okay, okay! I can take a hint! Who wants to come with me?” he asked.

Frack looked at Bernie, who nodded. “We will, bro. The Captain needs an escort when away from the ship, right?”

“That’s right. Besides, I’ve been here before. I know a few places to go,” Bernie added.

“Sounds like a plan,” Fred said. “After the radio is repaired, you three head out, but be back in time for dinner!”

“Let’s do it to it, then!” Frick said, getting up.

Replacing the antenna took Fran maybe ten minutes to do, connecting the lead to the radio system was also simple. Almost simple. Frick managed to trace the lead down to where it went through a breaker, which tripped when the lightning struck. Frick took out the burned lead and replaced it with the new one, and radio communications were restored. Fred promptly hoofed Frick a radio and pointed forcefully to the brow. Immediately taking the hint, Frick headed out, followed by Bernie and Frack.

Once on the road out, after stepping over the hermit crab barricade (a coil of razor wire stretched across Dredgers Key Road), Bernie told the brothers, “There is one place my parents always took me, and that’s Fort Zachary Taylor. With the Gulf of Mexico to the right, Atlantic Ocean to the left, it’s a beautiful sight. There’s a place along the way that I liked, the parrot rescue sanctuary. A touch off the route, but worth it.”

“A parrot sanctuary? Any of them talk?” Frick asked.

“Some did. Not many, but they were all hand-tame, and loved seeing people. One big red and blue one liked perching on my wrist. I hope she’s still around, I liked her!” Bernie chuckled.

“Sounds like an idea to me! Lead the way!” Frick laughed.

“First, once we get to shore, I need to find me some shades!” Bernie said. Truly, the sun shone bright high above them, beating down from a cloudless sky.

“I can do that!” Frack said, taking wing and searching for a store. Finding one, he got inside, found some hats and returned, carrying the plastic rack in his mouth. “Pick one!” he mumbled around the hangar.

Bernie did, once she stopped laughing, a white ball cap with a green transparent bill. Frick helped her get it off the rack, and while Frack brought the rack back, he cut holes in the cap for her ears. “Much better! I’m not having to squint any more!” she squealed happily.

“Glad to hear it. Now, lead on! He’ll find us!” Frick said, heading down Roosevelt Boulevard.

One thing that got their attention was the quiet. No people, few birds, few animals, just the sound of the wind blowing and their own hoofbeats. They had not gone very far when, while passing a green area, the three heard a familiar sound. “Is that chickens I hear?” Frick said.

Frack and Bernie looked at each other. Together, they nodded in agreement. “Yes, that’s chickens. A pretty good-sized flock, too. They’re a ways off,” Bernie said, tilting her head to get a fix on the chickens' location.

“Tell you what,” Frack said. “Let’s check on them on the way back. They’re not going anywhere, and we didn’t bring a basket.”

“Good point,” Bernie said, giving her head a shake. Her new hat stayed in place. “To the parrots!”

Down Roosevelt Boulevard Bernie led the brothers, past where the street name changed to Truman Avenue, pointing out different sights she remembered from her trips there. As they passed the Basilica of Saint Mary Star of the Sea, the three ponies stopped and sniffed.

“I smell flowers,” Frack said. “Flowers like what we found in Sunken Gardens.”

“So do I. Worth a little side trip to check it out?” Frick suggested.

“There is a garden grotto here. It’s not very big. Then again, I have not been this way in about ten years,” Bernie admitted. Together, they trotted in to look.

There, they found an overgrown garden, abundantly abloom with fragrant flowers. Looking to the grotto, again they found flowers, including some blue ones. “Poison Joke? Here?” Bernie said.

“Sure looks like it,” Frick said, snapping pictures of the area. “I’m sure the WSU would want to know of this. Maybe Havana will send some boats over to harvest.”

“Maybe even the Deliverance herself, if they have the nerve to do the voyage,” Frack added.

“I’m sure they will, once they know of the treasure waiting here,” Frick said. “Got the pictures, let’s head to the fort.”

Fort Zachary Taylor was everything Bernie had promised. Wonderful views, a museum to tour, a fine beach to sprawl and splash on, something they all enjoyed. After some play time, they toured the museum, after Frick unlocked the doors. Inside was less grand than they expected, seeing as the fort was built starting in the 1840’s, and Zachary Taylor himself dying in office in 1850, never having been there.

As they wandered, Frick felt something almost like a faint tugging on his magic, urging him into the storage areas of the fort. “What are you doing, Frick?” Bernie asked.

“I got a feeling. Something’s this way and it’s, well, calling me. I want to see what it is,” he said, leading his brother and friend deeper into the older storage rooms.

“We’re with you, bro,” Frack said quietly.

Twenty minutes of searching led the three to an old brick wall. “Whatever it is, it’s behind those bricks,” Frick muttered, lighting up his horn.

“What are you doing, Frick?” Bernie asked as she and Frack backed up a few paces.

“Damn you, brick, I’m going to re-MOVE you!” Frick snarled as a bright purple beam leapt from his horn, striking the brick and raising a cloud of dust. The beam went out after a second or so, and the three ponies started coughing until the dust cleared.

“Must you, Frick? Now we’re going to have to go swimming again to get this dust off!” Bernie coughed as Frick used his magic to pull out a box from where the brick was.

“This was calling to me. Let’s see what it is,” Frick said quietly, struggling to open the box. It took a little while, but the box opened, revealing an antique pistol inside, one he, and the others, was not familiar with.

“An antique pistol. Why would an antique pistol call to me?” Frick mused, holding it in his glow.

Frack shrugged with his wings. “Far as I know, it has a magic charge on it, you have strong magic, it felt you and called, wanting a recharge. Bring it along, maybe someone somewhere knows what it is,” he advised.

“Yeah, I hate being in a basement,” Bernie muttered. “Let’s get back to the beach.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Frick led the two back to the surface and to the beach, where Frack and Bernie splashed about some while he sat on the beach, examining the gun. “Maybe a cap and ball? Don’t have no caps nor balls for it,” he muttered before putting it in his pouch, which he set onto the sand so he could get into the water to wash the dust off of him.

After a vigorous swim, the three started walking back to the Deliverance. All the walking and swimming had given them all appetites, and they were looking forward to a heaping spaghetti dinner with garlic bread and rich, thick tomato sauce. As they passed the basilica, all three heard a low rumble coming from the garden. Frick and Frack looked at each other, fright coming to their eyes.

“Cragadile?” Frack asked.

“Cragadile,” Frick replied.

“Cragadile?” Bernie asked.

“Cragadile,” Frick answered.

“What’s a cragadile?” Bernie asked.

“Trouble,” Frack replied as another rumble came from the garden, this one closer and louder.

“Run?” Frick asked as a very large cragadile came out from under some bushes.

“FLY!” Frack screamed as he took to the skies, Bernie a half heartbeat behind him.

Frick, however, didn’t have that recourse. He thought about running, but then the cragadile began its charge. Quickly, and wondering why the whole time, he pulled the antique pistol out of his pouch, pulled the hammer back, aimed and fired.

With a ‘thump’, more felt than heard, a glowing purple ball came out of the barrel of the gun, pushed by a purple cloud of smoke. The ball hit the cragadile in the snout. The cragadile then glowed purple and collapsed in a cloud of dark purple dust, its outline plain to see on the pavement.

“Per-cussion!” Frick said as he put the old gun away. He didn’t notice his cutie mark glowing in the bright sunlight. He did turn up Truman Avenue and started running. Hard and fast.

Frack flew alongside Bernie. “Did you see that?”

“Yes, but I don’t believe it!” she replied.

“We better follow him,” Frack said, pointing at his brother as Frick went into a full gallop.

“We better. Running like that in this heat is just plain dumb,” Bernie said.

“That’s my brother…” Frack sighed as he followed Frick as he ran like the second coming of Secretariat.

Author's Note

Getting my friend straightened out is not as easy as i thought. I'm making progress with him. Twelve more days before back to the cold and snow of Salt Lake. Twelve more days to enjoy the cats here, they being Kano, Flea, Shiro, The Grudge, and the kitten, Holly. She's letting me pet her without running. I'll post pictures, if there is any demand.

Hope you like this latest chapter. Next up, off to Havana!

Yes, Kano, I'll pet you now. Don't claw my shorts!

Chapter 32: Who's that knocking at my door?

Frick did not slow down from his headlong gallop until after Truman Avenue changed names back to Roosevelt Boulevard, damn near a mile. He didn’t stop, just slowed to a walk, gasping some as he did.

Frack and Bernie came to slowly fly beside Frick, Bernie positioning herself so her shadow shaded Frick. “What was that all about, big bro?” Frack asked.

“Little bro, if I knew, I would tell you. No way I could outrun that cragadile. I turned and shot almost on instinct. No, more like the gun knew I was in a lot of trouble, and guided me on what to do to get me out of trouble. I remember thinking I would like to see a chalk outline around that thing, like in the crime movies. I came close,” Frick gasped out between deep breaths, not stopping his slow walk.

“Instead, you turned it into purple chalk dust. You going to be okay, big bro?” Frack asked.

“I should. Fly back to the boat and grab me a couple cans of Jolt. You can tell everyone something happened, but the story can wait for dinner. Right now, I need to fix my anemia,” he puffed.

“I’m on it. Stay with him, Bernie. I’ll be back in ten or so,” Frack said with some firmness as he picked up forward speed and altitude, looking for the Deliverance.

“Will do!” Bernie called before looking back down at Frick. “What’s this about anemia?”

Frick took a couple of more breaths before saying, “I don’t know about you, but I need me a drink!” slurring together ‘I need me a’ into ‘anemia’. “Old joke and code signal between us.”

Bernie shook her head as she shadowed Frick, literally in this case. “I don’t know which of you is worse, you or him?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the older and wiser. I’ve had more time to think of stupid jokes,” Frick admitted candidly as he walked down the street.

“You’re a rare type, Frick. A jokester who won’t hide it from anyone else. At least I can see where Frack gets it from,” Bernie said as she flew overhead.

“What do you think of my little brother?” Frick asked suddenly.

“I think he is polite, gallant, and totally hooked on me. I don’t mind, because I feel the same way about him. He’s protective, but not smothering me. I like that in someone. He lets me be me, even though I only woke up in this form two weeks or so ago. He’s also helping me find me, but at my own pace. Why do you ask?” Bernie asked, taken aback at the sudden question.

“Simple. He’s my little brother. I’ve always been protective of him, especially after he lost his left foot in an accident when he was thirteen. Protective, but I never got in his way. If he asked a life question, I would give him my opinion, but made him make all of his own critical decisions. After our parents died in a plane crash back in eighty-one, we decided to just stay together. It worked, with help from Fred and Frieda,” Frick explained.

“So, if I take Frack, I get you as well?” Bernie said flippantly.

“Only part-time. I know enough to stay out of Frack’s life except when he lets me into it. What goes on between you two stays that way, period.” Frick declared. Bernie could feel his sincerity.

“Once we turn over Deliverance, whatever you two do together, I won’t worry or snoop. I’m proud that he’s stepping out. May you two have many happy days and nights together,” he told the thestral.

Bernie’s ears perked about that time. “Frick, get into some shade. I’m going to find where those chickens are. Tomorrow, we’re going to be chicken hawks!” she said eagerly before winging off.

“Good idea,” Frick said, ducking into a shadowy spot.

Bernie followed her ears to a field lined with trees and dry ground in a slightly-raised center. There, she beheld what had to be a hundred chickens scratching and pecking at the ground. “Jackpot…” she whispered, licking her fangs. “Omelets tomorrow!” She fixed the location in her mind, soaring a bit higher to map out how non-flyers can get to the spot without hiking through underbrush before returning to Frick.

She found that Frack had returned, bringing with him a large thermos of water as well as two Jolts. Frick was taking the water first, in slow sips. “Where did you fly off to?” Frack challenged.

“Chicken hawking. Found out where they are. Also mapped out a way for others to join in the fun. Dinner almost ready?” Bernie asked.

“It will be when we get there. So, let’s get there! Frieda made her rich tomatoey sauce!” Frack said eagerly.

Bernie took station as Frick’s sunshade. Frick gave the thermos back to Frack, who slung the carry cord over his neck. Opening a can of Jolt and draining half of it, Frick pointed up the road. “Dinner awaits!” he declared before marching off, Frack and Bernie in his wake.

When Frick told his story at dinner, many were skeptical, until he brought out the pistol. Not only did everyone stare at the gun, so did Frick, because it wasn’t that ancient relic he found, but it looked almost brand-new, the metal and wood gleaming with a faint purple glow. “Either that cannon was meant for you or it’s taking your power to fuel itself,” Foster observed.

“I should say so,” Frick replied, putting the gun back into the pouch. “I’m going to have to figure out a holster for it. Not now, though. I have a dinner to savor!” He put action to words, coating a piece of garlic bread with the rich marinara sauce before taking a bite.

“Double or nothing you can’t guide us into Havana Harbor with the same accuracy!” Frieda squawked, both pleased he (and everyone else) were enjoying the meal, and narked at Frick’s ‘rubbing it in’.

“Deal! I will put us within a mile of Havana Harbor. If I miss, you dictate to me what sort of dinner you want me to cook, even if it involves meat. If I hit, you cook for us with the same care you did today, deal?” Frick outlined the terms of the bet.

“Deal!” Frieda squawked, extending a fist for a hoof bump, which was returned.

Frick had some more of the outstanding spaghetti dinner. “Okay, people, here is the plan of the day for tomorrow. You’re going to split yourselves into two groups. Group One sets out after breakfast and returns about one for lunch. Group Two sets out at one and has until sundown. I will putter about the boat. You gave me today off, I’m giving you all tomorrow off. Half day, anyway, because the day after, on the nineteenth, we set sail for Havana shortly after dawn. With luck, we should be there around the one to two p.m. time frame.

“Now, dig in! But, before we do, let’s hear it for the cook, our friend and Second Officer, Frieda!” Frick called out. The accompanying applause and hoof stomps threatened to upset the tables, but everyone controlled themselves in time.

That next day, the morning crew (Fred, Frieda, Frack and Bernie) harvested themselves four plump, juicy chickens and about five dozen eggs first thing, bringing them back and prepping them for cooking before spending the rest of the morning touristing. The afternoon group (Fran, Foster, Malala and Michie) did their touristing by going first to the Hemingway House, where Foster and Malala harvested some souvenirs while Fran and Michie played with the six-toed cats, who seemed to know Michie was a kitten and willingly played with her. Their next stop was the bird sanctuary, where all were enthused by the presence of the colorful birds, some of whom did talk. Crudely. One of them, a large scarlet macaw, followed the group out of the sanctuary.

When Foster tried to chase the scarlet macaw off, the big bird stood its ground. “Watch the girl! Watch the girl!” it chirped, fluttering over to perch on Michie’s head.

Michie tried to look up. “Capo, what you doing?” she asked.

“Watch the girl! Keep her safe!” Capo chirped, bending down to rub cheeks with Michie, who giggled.

“How do we care for a parrot? Fran asked.

“Macaw! Macaw! Have seed, have fruit, have water, Capo happy!” the big bird shrilled.

“What about when it gets cold outside?” Malala asked.

Capo squawked, “Keep warm, too! Cold not good! Keep girl safe!”

“So long as we can potty-train the bird, ah doubt Frick won’t especially mind,” Foster observed.

Capo let out a loud, possibly indignant squawk. “Not foul nest! Not good! Outside that in bushes!”

“Finally, a pet that is as bird-brained as the rest of the crew…” Foster muttered.

“That’s me! Capo bird brained!” the big scarlet macaw squawked, everyone laughing in agreement.

Back at the Deliverance, Frick and everyone else readily took to Capo, who flew about, landing on everyone at least once, squawking a word about each person, ‘Doctor’ to Malala, ‘Ward’ to Michie, “Organizer’ to Harry, ‘Pile-it’ to Tina, ‘Batty Girl’ to Bernie, ‘Honor’ to Foster, ‘Ward Mama’ to Fran, ‘Storm watcher’ to Frack, ‘Group Mama’ to Frieda, “Big Daddy’ to Fred, and finally, Frick. Capo perched gently on his cap and said, quite clearly, ‘Chief Screwball!’.

“Ah think that there bird has done summed us all up quite well, won’t ya say?” Foster quipped, getting everyone laughing.

“Agreed! Welcome to the crew, Capo!” Frick said.

Capo rubbed his body against Frick’s bristly short-cut mane. “Thanks a lot, Screwball!” he chirped.

“Well, at least he got the Captain pegged!” Bernie laughed.

Bright and early the next morning, the shore contingent arrived at the boat, Tina and Harry having packed a small bag each with mementoes. After breakfast, the tables were stowed and promptly at 0600 on 19 June 2016, the Deliverance started circling Key West going around the island to the south side. Frick carefully oriented the boat on a course of 207 degrees, engaged autopilot and advanced the throttles. “We’re on the road to Havana…” he sang up on the fly bridge.

Capo let out a squawk and held his wings to his head. “Screwball no sing!”

Tina and Frieda, who were up on the bridge preparing two of the chickens they had caught yesterday for roasting, laughed at the macaw. “He does sing, Capo. Thing is, no one else thinks he does. They think he’s rubbing a cat the wrong way!” Frieda laughed.

“Got that right, Mama!” Capo chirped.

“I’m heading down to the pilothouse,” Frick said. “No chickens there.”

“When you get there, there will!” Capo said, fluttering up to perch on the netting by the roof line.

“Damn bird…”

The gallant little boat steadily made its way towards Cuba, moving resolutely to its final destination under the skies that steadily grew cloudier. “What’s with the weather, bro?” Frick asked.

“Something’s not right. It’s not supposed to be this cloudy. Something’s monkeying with the weather.” Frack said. “My senses say clear weather for the next couple of days. Does feel like a flock of storm birds, but they’re going to have to be as big as condors and as thick as that clot of flies we saw.”

“Not like anything we saw,” Frick muttered. “Fran, call ahead to Havana and get a weather update, please,” he said in a louder voice.

Fran, who was at the controls in the pilothouse, said “Okay, Frick. Let’s see what’s going on.” She picked up the microphone, made sure the radio was set at the proper frequency, then called in. “Havana Harbor Control, this is the Deliverance. Radio and weather check, please,” she said in Spanish. After a minute, she repeated the message. No answer.

“Frick, can you check the radio out? I know they were there this morning. I phoned them when we set out. Not getting an answer.”

Frick went to the pilothouse, a puzzled expression on his face. “I know the radio is working. We tested it several times since we changed the antenna. Go up to the bridge and take control from up there for a while. I’ll check things out here.”

“Right. I’ll phone them from up there after I try the radio, if they don’t reply,” Fran suggested.

“Good idea. You do that,” Frick confirmed as he sat on the bench seat. “Call me when you’re up there.”

“Will do, Frick.” It wasn’t a minute later when she called over the intercom, “Control switched to bridge, Captain.”
“Very well,” Frick replied, checking over the radio subroutines. Everything checked out, but Havana did not respond to calls. Neither on radio or the phone. Fran reported the same thing a few minutes later.

“Fran, override autopilot, go to half power, remain on same heading. Frieda, you and Harry each take a radio, you grab an ocular and pull for altitude. We should be about ten miles out from Havana Harbor. Try to see what the hell is going on over there,” he ordered, his horn and cap badge glowing faintly purple.

“Will do, Captain,” Frieda said, leaving the galley and grabbing a radio and a monocular. Harry did the same. Together, they launched off the stern and started climbing, circling the Deliverance.

At about three thousand feet, give or take the odd fathom, the two saw smoke on the horizon. They both went to a hover and looked, using both pegasi distance vision and the monocular. Smoke was rising from several spots in the distance, and flashes of light came from a fort on the shore and something approaching the harbor entrance. “Cornhusker Three to Cornhusker Base. Something’s going on and it’s raising smoke. Let’s advance with caution. We can’t make out any details,” she reported.

“Cornhusker Base copies, Three. Going to ahead one-third. Stay as aerial cover until we get more info. Havana’s still not responding,” Frick told the scouts.

“Will do,” Frieda replied. “We can use the cloud base as cover.”

“I’m the what, you’re the how! We need to know what’s going on there!” Frick shouted into the radio.

“Chill it, One! We’re on it! Launch the drone as backup!” Frieda snapped back.

“Good idea, don’t mind if I do,” Frick replied. “Cornhusker Base out.”

“Let’s close in, Harry. We do need to know what’s going on!” Frieda told her wingpony.

“Let’s do it!”

Aboard the Deliverance, Frick looked from the pilothouse to the saloon. Of those aboard, only Tina and Foster were there, Fred, Malala, Michie and Capo were in the main cabin downstairs, as were Frack and Bernie in the captain’s cabin, doing whatever. “Tina! What do you know about handling drones?” he called out.

“Quite a bit. I learned it as a hobby while I was being reassembled, and came up with a few uses for them after. Why you ask?” Tina asked from the saloon table.

“Something’s going on in Havana, and they’re not answering the phone. Frieda and Harry are heading in to look, but an additional eye won’t hurt, right?” Frick observed.

“Good point, Frick. Where’s your drone?” Tina asked, getting up.

Foster opened a storage compartment and floated out the controller. “It’s upstairs. Ah’ll go get it an’ set it up aft. You figure out the controller. Ah’ll be down in a jif.” he said before heading upstairs to dismount and unplug the drone.

Tina looked at the controller. “Okay, I know this one. Shouldn’t be too hard. Captain, what’s our distance from Havana?”

Frick looked at the chart display. “A bit under nine miles.”

“Let’s wait until we get within three before launch. This model claims a four mile range, but one thing I have learned is to never trust the labels. Closer in, better chance of maintaining good control,” Tina advised.

“Sounds good to me.” Frick opened the intercom to the bridge controls. “Fran, come to sixty percent throttle. We need to get closer before launching the drone.”

“Sixty percent throttle, aye.” All could feel the twin Cummins diesels increasing speed. “Captain, ship is at sixty percent of full throttle.”

“Very well.”

Above, Frieda and Harry closed in on Havana Harbor. They could see flashes of light, both inbound from something big in the water and outbound from a fort at the entrance. Harry was the first to resolve what was going on in the water. “Frieda, does it look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon is waving a huge trident while on the back of a damn big fire-breathing sea serpent?” he asked.

Frieda went to a hover, focusing with her monocular. “Harry, that’s a good call. That’s what it looks like to me.” She then quickly blinked as a bright light came from the points of the trident, going up into the thick cloud cover. From above came a clap of thunder, and something big and flaming coming out of the clouds to smash into the city. “Ho boy. No wonder they’re not answering the radio or the phone.”

“Got that right. Got any ideas on what to do about it?” Harry asked.

“First thing, let’s get back to the boat. The longer they stay ignorant of us, the more of a chance we can do something about it,” Frieda said, readying her radio. “Husker Three to Husker Base. RTB. Film at Six on NewsWatch Seven.”

“Husker base copies and confirms RTB, Husker Three. Awaiting video. Base out,” Frick said over the radio.

“What did you mean by that, Frieda?” Harry asked as they started heading back out to sea, both, by unspoken agreement, traveling along the base of the cloud layer, dipping in and out of the gray mass.

“Private code. Frick knows we have seen something serious, and will await a formal IN-PERSON report. Who knows who or what else may be listening? Remember, even paranoids have enemies, and I would not call those two friends.” Frieda replied, voice serious.

“I understand that,” Harry muttered as they flew back.

Author's Note

Looks like someone's knocking on Havana's door, and is not taking 'we're busy!' as an acceptable answer. How can one little boat and its intrepid crew take out a couple of sea monsters? My wager is on 'with extreme difficulty'. What do you think?

Will be back in SLC next week. Coin toss if I will have 33 up by then or the week after. Goldfur, it was wonderful meeting with you this past Sunday. May we have a chance to do it again some time.

Chapter 33: The Hottest Spot North of Havana

Frieda and Harry made it back to the Deliverance, circling behind it to land on the after deck, Tina carrying the drone up the stairs to the bridge to give them space. “How bad is it?” she asked.

“Fugly, Rag Doll,” Harry told her.

“Rag Doll?” Frieda asked.

“My flight handle. Doubly appropriate after my incident in Afghanistan,” Tina said, coming down as Harry went inside, putting the drone on the after deck.

“Rag Doll and Keymaster. No stranger than Cornhusker Three,” Frieda commented as she squeezed her way into the saloon, Tina waiting in the doorway.

The table was put down to allow for more space, what with Frick, Foster, Fred, Harry, Frack, Bernie and Frieda inside. Fran was in the pilothouse driving, and Frieda had to presume Malala and Michie were downstairs. Capo perched on the catch rail. “Second Officer, Second Scout, your report,” Frick asked firmly.

Frieda and Harry reported all that they saw from their vantage point. “A huge Creature From the Black Lagoon wielding a lightning-throwing trident astride a huge fire-breathing sea serpent, bringing down fire and destruction from a cloudy sky. Have I got that right?” Frick asked after the description.

“That’s it in a nutshell, Frick,” Frieda said soberly.

Frick looked down at the floor, gathering his thoughts, a faint purple nimbus coming from his horn. Nobody spoke, nobody moved, hell, practically nobody breathed while he pondered. “We have not come all the way down here from Central Nebraska only to be stopped by a couple of sea monsters sitting outside our destination. We are going to remove that problem,” he said firmly.

“Frick, Havana has big guns, a lot of people, and targeting systems,” Fred said. “What have we got that they don’t have that will make the problem go away?”

Capo let out a squawk, then said “Captain Screwball!”

Eight pairs of eyeballs looked up at the scarlet macaw. The one pair that did not belong to Frick. Slowly, he raised a hoof to point at the bird. “Capo, in this case, is right. You have me to coordinate our actions, using the tools at our disposal. What do we have that the Creature doesn’t? We have our wits, we have our skills, and above all, we have our rules.”

“Bro, since when have we set down any rules?” Frack asked from where he sat next to Bernie.

“We haven’t. That’s our main advantage. We have no rules when it comes to fighting or helping our friends, right? That means we can pull anything out of our proverbial hats.

“Tina, you said that if you take the time to aim, you don’t miss. Correct?” Frick asked.

“Yes, but do you have anything that will work at such a distance? For sure we don’t want to get too close,” Tina said.

“We have two good-sized Mark Seventeen rifles chambered for seven point six two ammunition mounted up on the bridge, slaved together on motor mounts and controlled from either up on the bridge or down in the pilothouse. Think you can hit a target from a quarter-mile?” Frick asked. Gone were any traces of Henry Blake. No, Frick had gone full-up Sherman T. Potter, and everyone knew it.

“If I was in my F-18, I would say no problem. With two rifles, all I will say is that I will give it my best shot,” Tina said quietly.

“Good. Anyone else have any ideas?” Frick barked.

“Ah have two,” Foster said. “One ah’m gonna have to consult with Her Majesty about, the second you gotta get started on right away.”

“And that is?” Frick asked.

“We got us how many bottles of medical alcohol aboard? Take some of the toy balloons we got fo’ Michie, stuff them half-full of poison joke, add alcohol, tie tight and shake well. Don’t get any of the stuff on you. After half an hour of steepin’, get some of that on someone and they is going to be affected. What yuh think of that?” Foster deadpanned to the Captain.

Frick didn’t hesitate. “Break the stuff out and get started. I’ll take over once I see to some other stuff. Frack, relieve Fran at the conn. Fran, go up to the bridge with Tina and train her on the rifle array. Frieda, Malala, keep trying all the Havana numbers we know. Foster, call Marie as soon as I relieve you. Fred, call Maasvlakte and let them know about Havana, then call the Fugro and ask for Captain Skinner. Everyone else, just keep out of everyone’s way. We got work to do!” he declared.

As the various ponies (and others) bustled about, Frick made his way to the after deck, to sit under the cloudy skies and think, finding that the engines rumbling under him was quite soothing. After a few minutes, Bernie came out to sit next to him. “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

“I would take it, but I can’t give you change.” was Frick’s response.

“Don’t want change, Frick. Do you think this bird-brained scheme of yours will work?” Bernie asked, putting a hoof next to his.

“It’s like Fred said one time before you arrived, Bernie. There’s no shame in trying and failing, the only shame is in not trying. Sure, the odds are good that we could all get killed trying to pull this off, but if we do nothing, or alter course to avoid the problem, can we look at ourselves in the mirror ever again?” Frick said coolly.

“As Foster has said more than once, it’s always better to go down swinging than it is to go down looking. You know you have our total support. May I tell you why I’m confident some good will come out of this?” Bernie said quietly.

“It’s probably the same reason I’m having confidence. The gods are not telling Fred he’s following a fool,” Frick replied, a little smile on his face.

Bernie thought for a few seconds, her ears swiveling a little. “I didn’t think of that one. My thoughts are that both Michie and Fran are not afraid. Remember the lightning strike? Michie did not panic before the strike, she panicked after. If she knew something truly bad was coming, she would say something. Kids have no filters on their mouths.”

“True. They don’t. I know of it, and I’m sure you do know it. How old was your daughter at the divorce?” Frick asked.

“Just a bit older than Michie. I hope that whenever she comes back, she leads a happy life. Anna never held a grudge, it was all between my wife and I.” Bernie shook her head, making her silvery mane fly about. “Enough of that. Want Harry and I to maintain an overflight as we close in?” she asked.

“You, Harry and Frack. The men are both pegasi. If the Creature’s messing with the weather, maybe they can mess back. Hit the creature with as many attacks as we can muster at once, something’s bound to get through. Damned if I know what, though,” Frick confessed.

“Don’t worry. You have our full support. I’ll even tell you why I’m backing this bird-brained scheme, Captain,” Bernie said gently, but with determination.

“Why is that?” Frick asked.

Bernie pointed with a navy blue wing through the open doors of the saloon to the scarlet macaw up on the catch rail. “If the bird says it’s right, run with it!” she said with a chuckle.

Frick nodded in agreement. “Let’s get to work,” he said with a small smile.

A while later, the Deliverance came to a stop in the water off the shore of Cuba. The Creature and the sea monster were both still there, the clouds still low, dark and swirling around above the Creature. Occasional flaming meteors came from the cloud deck and splashing down in Havana.

Frick relieved Frack at the conn, Fran and Tina got the drone up, Frack, Harry and Bernie took off, Foster took position up on the bridge, staring into the distance, where the Creature and Sea Monster were mere bumps on the horizon. Beside Foster was an egg crate with a dozen water balloons in it, jiggling slightly, full of rubbing alcohol and poison joke. Fortunately, it did not take much poison joke to get the job done. The aerial contingent had four poison joke eggs each, in case they managed to get close enough to drop them.

Frick watched the drone’s signal as it followed the three winged folk, occasionally panning down to watch the creature. Said creature kept its attention fixed on Havana, trying to hit the anti-ship nets keeping it out of the harbor. “That’s it, bucko. Fix on the target. The first rule of Italian sailing- what’sa behind you is NOT important!” he muttered as he slowly moved the boat closer. It was not storming, no rain, but wind and lightning.

“Enterprise to Weather Eight. Think you can jump-jack the storm?” Frick called over the radio.

“Weather Eight to Enterprise. No, we can’t take the storm control away, but we can mess with it a little. Once we do, he’ll be aware of us,” Frack reported.

“Weather Eight, what’s the wind pattern there? Cyclonic or anti-cyclonic?” Frick asked.

“Cyclonic, and he’s in the eye. Thinking of an approach from the south?” Frack countered.

“You got it, bro. Ride the winds and approach from the south or southwest. Keep it guessing where you’re coming from. Closing in slowly from the north,” Frick replied.

“Weather Eight copies traffic. Riding the winds!” Frack called back before leading his tiny squadron up to the base of the cloud deck, circling west.

“Conn to Weapons. Range now nine hundred yards and closing. How close before starting the attack?” Frick asked Foster, who was on the bridge with Tina and Fran.

“Ah wouldn’t even want to try ovah three hunnerd yards, Captain. Best chance to get anythin’ done is at point-blank range, suh,” Foster reported.

“Point-blank it is. Check the console up there for position checks,” Frick said before switching channels on his radio. “Bow gunner, status report.”

Outside, Frieda gave a thumbs-up, her big 50cal mounted, ready and firmly braced on the folded wagon while she was between the grain bins.

“Captain to all hooves and paws. Let’s get ‘er done!” Frick called out over the radio, both channels.

“Do it to it!” Capo screeched from his perch.

Frick advanced the throttles to half-power, counting on the stiff winds going from left to right to muffle the engine noise and blow the exhaust away from the creature. “Any advice, Fred?” he asked his First Officer, who was in the saloon.

“Just do as I do, Frick. Pray hard and hope someone listens. I’ve been trying to call on every deity I know, and I’m getting the same message back from all of them. ‘Just go forward in all your beliefs, and prove to me I’m not mistaken in mine.’.” Fred said soberly.

“Right or wrong, live or die, we have commit. We’re going in and may the Devil take the hindmost!” Frick said, getting a resolute look on his face. Fred privately thought that Frick looked like he was about to ram this little boat through a brick wall. He sent out his prayers again, hoping the brick wall was made of styrofoam.

“Weather Eight to Enterprise. In position,” Frack reported over the radio.

“Enterprise to Weather Eight. Hold. Not yet in full weapons range,” Frick told his little brother.

“Weather Eight to Enterprise. How much longer?”

“Two minutes, Weather Eight.” Frick then keyed up the intercom. “Less than two minutes, folks. At four hundred yards. Get ready.” He heard Foster stomp on the deck above and saw Frieda wave.

Frick waited until his range to target indicator read two hundred eighty yards before keying both mics. “All attack groups, fire at will! Splash that bandit!”

“Weather Eight copies traffic.”

“Topside, roger that.”

Frieda waved, settling behind her gun, watching and waiting as the boat bobbed and danced on the waves.

Frack looked at Harry. “Ready to rustle up some storm?”

“I can only hope. You only showed me how the one time,” Harry admitted.

“Okay, then. You supply storm potential, I’ll shape and target it. Stir it up, Harry!” Frack shouted as he reached his metaphorical fingers out into the storm and rearranged matters enough to form a lightning bolt, target being the trident the Creature was holding.

“Weather Eight, Fire One!” Frack shouted as he struck a spark, targeting the trident the Creature held high. The spark leaped down from the clouds, but stopped short of the trident, blurring into a sparkling sphere around the Creature.

The Creature looked up, hunting for the source of the bolt, his attention having been focused elsewhere, but Weather Eight moved up into the clouds. The Creature looked right at them, but did not spot them behind the clouds. “Weather Eight to Enterprise, we got his attention. Your turn!” Frack called down.

“On it, Weather Eight. Rifle Eight, Cannon Eight, hit them with your best shots. Grenade Eight, weapons free. Here’s hoping!” Frack heard Frick say over the radio.

On the bridge, Tina was the first to fire, a reddish-purple glow limning the barrels of the rifles as she let fly with both clips, rapid fire. The rounds all hit where she wanted, right where the Creature was sitting on the neck of the serpent. That got their attention, the Creature and serpent turning to look at where the sudden pain came from.

Frack fired again, this time the lightning bolt did hit the Creature. Steaming lines ran down the serpent’s neck from the bolt’s impact point, and the pair began to submerge. Quickly, Frieda took a shot, her 50cal letting out a boom. The round struck the Creature’s hand, the one holding the trident. Said trident fell from the hand, followed and pushed by a gout of ichor, splashing into the sea.

Grenade Eight, or Foster, levitated one of his water grenades in his golden glow before hurling it at the invaders, but at the range he was at, he lost control of the guidance and it splashed uselessly into the water. “Crap,” he muttered before grabbing his radio. “Grenade Eight to Bomber Eight. I’m out of safe range. Looks like that part is up to you.”

“Bomber Eight copies. Go to phase two,” Bernie replied.

“Spruance confirms phase two, Grenade Eight. Get started!” Frick confirmed.

“Grenade Eight, Phase two. Confirm,” Foster said as he composed himself, his green gem flickering to life.

“Rifle Eight reloaded, ready to fire,” Tina reported.

“Rifle Eight, stand by. Recon Eight, get closer, if you can. Use your judgement,” Frick ordered.

“Recon Eight,” Fran acknowledged.

“Bomber Eight, swing east, then wait for another bolt before making your attack. Got it?” Frack told Bernie.

“Got it. One at a time, two by two, or all at once?” she asked.

“All at once. If that doesn't work, we got two reloads up here. Go do it!” Frack encouraged with a grin.

“On it!” Bernie said with a smirk as she took wing, fighting the headwinds to get to position.

Below, the Creature from the Black Lagoon (or, as he was named, Oceandark, but few knew that little factoid) was trying to rally his thoughts. These new attacks were NOT in his briefing plans at all! His first focus was to regenerate his hand before recalling the Trident of Storms. He was sure he could get that done before the cyclone dissipated. He ordered his mount to maintain vigilance, and if anything approached, sear it until its bones fell into the water.

As Oceandark regenerated his hand, an order filtered through his thoughts. “Heal yourself. Head for the deepest waters you know. Go to the bottom. Delay there and await orders.” Oceandark balked at first, because his first orders were to reduce this land city to rubble. The new orders repeated themselves again and again and again, each time getting more and more strident and insistent. When his hand was healed, his mind was filled with the command. He ordered his mount to go that way, but it balked. Oceandark reinforced the command.

Above, Weather Eight launched another bolt, which missed the Creature by not a lot. That bolt was the signal for Bernie to start her attack. She dove, readying her bomb packet. The sea serpent thrashed a little at the orders the Creature was giving it, and spotted Bernie almost at the last minute. It opened its mouth to roast the thestral, but she quickly lobbed the package into the serpent’s mouth, where it broke against a tooth, spreading its payload inside the serpent’s mouth and into its body.

The serpent coiled at the bad taste and inhaled, to burn the taste out of its mouth with its fiery breath. However, the poison joke started working right then. The long, sinuous, scaly serpent started to puff up, its scales changing to spikes, its eyes widening. It inhaled again, and grew even larger, a spike impaling the Creature through a leg.

Weather Eight backed off as they watched the serpent change into a pufferfish, one that grew larger by the second. They could see the Creature struggling, a spike growing through one of its legs. “Weather Eight to Enterprise. You see what I see?” Frack reported.

“You better believe it! Glad I’m getting this recorded. Weather Eight, return to base and circle. What’s the status of the storm?” Frick asked.

“The storm is not getting boosted by that trident thingie, so I think it’s starting to dissipate. Ask again once we RTB, Enterprise,” Frack reported.

“Very Well, Weather Eight. RTB and check again. Enterprise out.” Frick concluded, watching the giant pufferfish continue to expand, rising out of the water. Once it did, the fish rolled over in the air, bringing the Creature from the top of the fish to the bottom, it falling gracelessly into the waters below. The giant pufferfish rolled upright, disappearing into the clouds, still expanding.

On the fly bridge, Foster sent another command to the Creature. “Heal thine self, go directly to the greatest deep here, and wait there for further orders. Ignore all other sources of commands, only obey me. Care for yourself, but await in the deeps.” With that thought in mind, Oceandark settled to the bottom, regenerating his leg before setting off for the nearest Great Deep, which was known to the inhabitants as the Puerto Rico Trench. It passed the Trident of Storms embedded in the mire of the sea bed, but paid it no mind as he proceeded to the deeps. The deep meant shelter, protection, home. Wait there for further instructions.

Foster put his heads down, his gold glow and the green gem’s light dimming to nothing. “You performed with honor, my servant. Know my pride in you. You could have killed it, but instead you sent it away. If I have time, I can look in and maybe find a use for it.” he heard in his mind, the voice of his queen, Marie Laveau.

“Killing has its place, Your Majesty. I did not think now was the time or place. Removing it is just as good. Thank you for hearing my plea for your wisdom.” Foster replied over the thought link.

“I trust your discipline, honor and discretion in this, Sheriff. Know also your cousin has been freed from her sentence as a zombie and is now working as part of my staff in New Orleans. Cargill is serving her sentence.”

“Thank you, my Queen. I place my trust in you to put her on the right path. I should not call again until we get to our final port, and speak to those in charge, to arrange official meetings and trade practices. We shall see. Fare well, my Queen.”

“Fare well, Ambassador. Until next time.” The thought link faded, and Foster went limp, exhausted from his efforts. Tina checked him over, carefully closing the lid on the grenade crate.

“Spruance to all Eight units, stand down from red alert. Safe all weapons before reporting back to the saloon for some libations,” Frick said over the intercom before putting the microphone back in place. “Fred, can you get me a can of Jolt, please? I’m feeling a bit drained.”

“Of course, Frick. I don’t know who was watching over us, but it worked. Mass will be done after dinner tonight, once we pull in to port,” Fred replied as he fetched a can of Jolt from the saloon fridge.

From above, Capo squawked. “Captain Screwball done did it!”

Unseen to those below, a bright orange light shone on top of the cloud deck, where the pufferfish discovered that venting a lot of hydrogen in a thunderstorm is not the smartest of ideas…

Author's Note

Back in Salt Lake, now to adapt to the cold and air pollution. Winter inversions. Fact of life here.

Speaking of facts, next episode, into Havana and see what happened there. Bring on a fight, yes, but by whose rules? As Captain Screwball showed, sometimes you just gotta write the rule book on the fly. Also, make sure the opponent doesn't see it in time to counter.

Next episode- Havana, or what's left of it.

If anyone can name what movie I was referring to in the call signs, I'll give you a virtual cookie. Or cigar. Your choice.

Chapter 34: Is there no end to bureaucracy?

The Deliverance did not enter Havana harbor until later in the afternoon, giving the cyclonic winds time to dissipate without much help from Frack or Harry. Frick carried Foster down to the big bed to sleep off his efforts. Fran brought the drone back and downloaded the video to the computer, for distribution to Maasvlakte. Tina reloaded the rifles, and Frick had the chore of carrying the poison joke bombs to their storage unit on the fly bridge and locking them securely in place. He had a key, Fred had a key, and Foster had a key. It also keeps a curious kitten out.

Fred had the conn as they cruised down the Canal de Entrada. “Damn, this city got off lucky!” Frieda said to Tina as they prepared some chickens up on the bridge.

“That they did. That creature must have had poor depth perception. All the damage I can see is on the seaward half of the canal. Nothing made it to the inner harbor,” Tina marveled, looking around.

“Still doesn’t explain why we could not raise anyone on the radio or the phone,” Frieda said as she checked over the two roasting chickens, basting them some before sliding them back in.

“I think we’re going to have an answer very soon,” Tina said, pointing ahead.

Frieda looked forward and saw two Ornithians, a red and a green, heading for the boat. “Let me open the netting!” she squawked in Spanish as she did just that on the forward section.

The two Ornithians came in and landed on the bridge, Tina and Frieda making space for them. “This be the Deliverance, si?” the red one asked in Spanish.

“Si, this be the Deliverance. I’m Frieda. Is that you, Raul? Where’s Hernando?” Frieda asked, Tina watching and listening, but while she knew the language was Spanish, she didn’t speak it. Other than English, the only language she had any fluency in is Magyar, or Hungarian.

The two Ornithians hung their heads. “Hernando did not survive the first bombardment. That makes me Harbormaster now. Well, me and Luis, here,” Raul said. “You say you bring a doctor, yes?”

“We do. Many hurt?” Frieda asked.

“Not so many, but many from the fort are hurt. Irma is doing all she can, but she is just one cleric,” Raul said mournfully.

“We have a doctor and a healer aboard. Guide us to a dock so we can off-load. Why didn’t you answer the radio or the phones? We’ve been calling for a while!” Frieda snapped at the now-Harbormaster.

“Radio tower and cell repeater fell due to the winds. Radar antenna was the first target of the sea monster. You can help fix it before Fugro gets here, yes?” Luis asked.

“We can try. First, go let the city know we’re coming with help. Raul, you’re our harbor pilot. Get us to the dock nearest to your hospital!” Frieda snapped with all the authority of a city librarian with a room full of first-graders. Raul turned to look at the controls while Luis went aft to take off from the stairs, so as to not tangle his wings in the bridge netting.

Frieda turned on the intercom to the saloon. “Frick, Malala, get up to the bridge. Paw, we have a harbor pilot. Switch controls to the bridge,” she said. “Also, you come up too, Paw. You’re going to be busy.”

“Control switched to the bridge. We’ll be right up, Maw,” Fred said through the intercom. Raul took the controls and skillfully guided the little boat that could through the harbor.

It wasn’t long before Frick, Fred and Malala trooped up to the bridge. Raul repeated the story, with Frieda translating. “Of course we’ll help with repairs! Give me a chance to look at the damage, and I can get to rebuilding the antenna.” Frick said quickly. “Right now, once we moor, we can get you in touch with Maasvlakte with our radio.”

“Point me to the hospital and I’ll get started. Hope you have enough supplies,” Malala added. She then went back to English. “Fred, you’re with me. We’re going to be rather busy, but such is the life of a doctor.”

“No problem with that, Malala. Those that can, do. I can, so let me do. Once we tie up, of course,” Fred said with a slight smile.

“Let me go down and report to the WSU about your current status. I’m so damn glad we took a day off yesterday, otherwise we would have been on the wrong side of the critter,” Frick said, with Frieda translating.

“You do that, Captain. Right now, I get you to dock safe,” Raul said with help from Frieda.

“Let’s do it. Don’t let the chickens burn, Frieda!” Frick said before heading downstairs, aided by a playful wing-slap from the griffin.

Later that evening, Frick, Frack, and Fran met with the leader of the Havana colony, an Ornithian named Eduardo Quiros. Fran was there as a translator, because Eduardo did not speak English.

“The first clue we had of something going wrong was when the skies started clouding and the wind started blowing harder,” Eduardo reported through Fran. “One good gust, and our main radio antenna fell. Shortly after, lightning struck at the fort, taking out the primary fire-director. It also killed the Harbormaster on duty. Most of the Guard Force there were trying to take cover. Of the ten total there, three killed, the rest wounded. We were fortunate that it did not get into the inner harbor. Just what was that thing, anyhow?”

“We can show you, Eduardo. We have it all on video,” Fran said, picking up her tablet and pointing at the saloon big-screen. Eduardo watched the whole tape, from start to finish.

When the video ended, Eduardo looked at the three, slightly shell-shocked. “Just how did you manage to get that all done?” he asked, with Fran translating.

“We just used what tools we had at hand. Two Mark Seventeen rifles on remote mounts, a 50cal long gun, a unicorn with connections, two dotty pegasi, a supply of poison joke and a daredevil bomber pilot,” Frick said brightly.

“Add in one screwball captain, shake well and pray,” Frack added. Once Fran translated, Eduardo laughed.

“Are they like this all the time?” Eduardo asked Fran once he managed to settle some.

“Constantly…” Fran groaned in reply, generating more laughter.

“Cornhusker Two to Cornhusker Base. Casualties have been tended to, and are recovering. Malala is going to remain here with the cleric to monitor the wounded. I’m heading back to the boat. Any leftovers?” Fred asked over the radio.

Frick selected a radio in his glow. “Quite a bit, Fred. We got some fresh greens and fruits in, so you don’t have to heat up porridge. Come on back and get some rest,” Frick advised, Fran translating for Eduardo.

“I’ll be there soon. Cornhusker Two out.”

“Cornhusker Base clear.” Frick put the radio back in its charger.

“One thing I want to ask you, bro. Why didn’t you pull out the Chalk Gun?” Frack asked.

Frick looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “I didn’t think about it. Range was long, anyhow. All I could see through the window were bumps and dots.”

“Chalk Gun?” Eduardo asked. Fran explained that it was an object Frick had found, which appeared to key off his magic and reduced a cragadile to purple chalk dust.

“Only usable by unicorns?”

“As far as we know, Eduardo. We found it a couple of days ago. Not much time to experiment.” Fran explained.

“True, that. Now, if I remember right, the doctor is staying here, right?” Eduardo asked, changing the subject some.

“Yes. She is fluent in Spanish, volunteered in Little Havana in Miami, and has a desire to avoid cold weather at any cost. I will become Michie’s foster mother, and we will go on to WSU headquarters,” Fran explained.

“Why not stay here? You speak Spanish well, and your skills will be put to good use,” Eduardo suggested.

Fran just gave Eduardo a long Look. “Eduardo, birds and cats living together? Really?” she said in tones so dry, the tide went out.

Eduardo looked thoughtful, then nodded. “You do have a point.” he conceded gracefully.

Fred soon arrived, and between bites of fresh fruits and foliage, explained about the casualties being treated. “All will be back on their feet in a week at the most. Many were banged and cut up, but if they weren’t dead when they got to us, they will live and recover. Irma’s a good find. Treat her well,” he advised Eduardo, with Fran’s help. After Eduardo’s agreement, they talked into the night, debating what should be fixed first and how. At midnight, they called Maasvlakte and dictated to DJ WSU a complete report as to what happened and results thereof, complete with video.

“Let me boil this down and forward it to Lorelei. Expect a call from us in about twelve hours, asking for clarifications,” Sandra told the group on the Deliverance.

After some words from Eduardo and a nod from Frick, Fran spoke for the crew. “We will be ready and waiting, Sandra. Talk to you in twelve hours!”

“Sounds good to me! DJ WSU out!”

Early the next morning (okay, eight o’clock, but many of the movers and shakers were up late) Frick and company set out, with guides, to survey the damage done to the community. He, Frack, Frieda and a couple of locals headed for where the radio tower was. It was obvious why it came down. It was just a spidery mast that was apparently bolted onto the roof of a tall building. “Now I see why it came down,” Frick said as he viewed the wreckage.

“Do you know how to repair this, senor Frick?” asked one of the locals, a hippogriff named Elisa Rodriguez, who was nominally in charge of maintaining the radio systems in Havana only because she had enough tech knowledge to make sense of the electrics and electronics involved, not because she is a radio engineer.

“Yes, I do, Elena. We’re going to have to do this in two ways, first to get this back up so we can have comms back, and second to build a better, sturdier antenna. I’ll do my best to teach you what you need to know, okay?” Frick told the taller hippogriff.

“I like that idea, senor Frick,” Elena said with hope and optimism.

“What can we do here, Frick?” Frieda asked.

“First, check the transmitters and relay systems to see if they are intact. If so, I have an idea on how to get the antenna back up today. If they are not, it’s going to take longer,” Frick admitted.

“This way,” Elena said, leading them inside. There, they found a room that had the transmission equipment and telephone system relays. Frick went over them one by one, using his testing gear and using Frieda as a translator when needed with Elena and Rodrigo, an Ornithian who claimed to have computer skills. They stayed until eleven-thirty, when Frick had to go back and receive the call from Maasvlakte. “Meet back here at two. With any luck, we’ll be up by nightfall.”

Back at the Deliverance, Frick, Eduardo and Fran got in a conference call with Lorelei, the captain of the Rhine Forest, and Captain Skinner of the Fugro Symphony. “How long do you think it will take to repair the antenna, Captain Frick?” the little pink unicorn filly asked from the split-screen with the hedgefog captain of the Fugro.

“If not tonight, by tomorrow noon at the latest. The equipment is undamaged, it’s just the antenna that needs remounting. With your help, Captain Skinner, when you arrive, we can start work on a replacement that will be far sturdier than the spiderweb I can do on my own,” Frick said honestly, looking at the camera. Fran quietly translated the words for Eduardo.

“How can I be of any help in that, Frick?” Captain Skinner asked.

“By helping lay coax cable to a former high-tension tower. I can build an antenna out of materials here, and mount it with the help of a couple of unicorns and pegasi. Plus, after we leave, Havana is going to have a backup communications system right here aboard the Deliverance. I plan on leaving Havana with TWO fully functioning comm systems behind me. This I so swear!” Frick said dramatically, his horn flickering bright purple. The two other captains exchanged looks, sharing similar thoughts. This guy may be somewhat bonkers, but he has done an outstanding job just getting his crew to where they are and all the help they have given in the past six months. Lorelei and Skinner both decided to ignore the antics and get to the heart of the matter.

“So, no real damage to Havana?” Skinner asked.

Eduardo, with Fran translating, handled that answer. “Fire control at the fort is out. Lost the radar there with the first lightning bolt. Minimal lightning damage, three dead, six injured. Double-checking of radar repairs requested. No damage to port facilities. Other than that, God smiled on us.”

“That it did,” Lorelei said. “Now, Captain Frick, how many immigrants are you asking to bring along to Maasvlakte aboard the Fugro?” she asked.

“Ten of us from Deliverance, thirty-one from Pensacola, two from Tarpon Springs and one from Saint Petersburg, a total of forty-four. Captain Skinner, what I would like is to know how long before you get here, how long you want to stay here, and your best estimate on how long it will take to pick everyone up and start heading back to Europe. Letting us know quickly will enable all stops to load up on provisions and medical herbs to help pay for passage,” Frick reported, all impishness leaving his voice.

“Ye know we no be charging survivors passage to get to safety, Captain,” Skinner said, his Scots burr showing some.

“We know that, and so do they. Each group WANTS to, to assure themselves they are not freeloaders. Pensacola can contribute what produce they can grow, Tarpon Springs can provide goat meat, goat milk, and if space can be arranged, four goats to bring to Maasvlakte. Saint Petersburg has access to Sunken Gardens, which is a floral treasure trove, offering medicinals, vegetables and fruit. I’m sure we can get a good wagonload of supplies from there alone,” Frick said.

“I have read the report on the medicinals available from Florida, as well as the amounts you have brought from Kansas City. Getting them will boost our medical potion production up by a very large fraction. Can Saint Petersburg bring intact poison joke plants as well as leaves?” Lorelei asked.

“From what I saw, that will not be a problem. By giving Joan some help in the harvesting, we can pull in, harvest, load up, and be out in under a day. There is a pier close to Sunken Gardens, and we can bring our folding wagon to help. The only hold up is the travel time, and if we radio ahead, we can minimize stoppage time,” Frick explained.

“You seem to be well prepared for the questions we have, Captain Frick. Captain Prateek has been made aware of what happened in Havana yesterday, and extends his thanks for the help you and your team has rendered. Your arrival here in Maasvlakte will be a very good day indeed for the WSU,” Lorelei said with as much gravity as a young unicorn filly could deliver.

“We should be there in about eight days, then spend another eight days in Havana before setting out. We will pick up the largest group first. We should be back in Rotterdam by the first of August. Can ye have the groups ready for pickup when the Fugro arrives?” Skinner asked.

“I don’t see any difficulty, Captain Skinner. I will phone them later today to let them know roughly when to expect pickup. They will be ready,” Frick promised.

“Good. Now, Governor Quiros, we have some questions for you,” Lorelei said.

Frick took his leave of the conference, heading back to the radio building. Once away from the Deliverance, he called Frack, Frieda and Elena to meet back at the radio building. Once there, he explained his plan to restore the antenna.

“Elena, you check the wiring from here to the roof. Hopefully, all we’ll have to do is to replace a segment up where it broke. Frack, Frieda, you two are going to guide the antenna back to the roof while I lift it. Once it is set there, I’ll come up and see if we can upright it and fasten it down better,” Frick told his cohorts.

“Why not fix the antenna down here, before lifting it up?” Frack asked.

“It’s in several pieces down here, and smaller pieces will be easier to lift. Once everything is up on the roof, we can find some portable welding gear and have Bernie put everything together. Then we can upright the antenna and re-mount it,” Frick explained.

“I can see the sense in that,” Frieda squawked. “You provide the up, we just make sure it doesn't sideslip on the way.”

“Right. Step one, clean-up and check on the wreckage here. We may have to replace the cell phone receiver,” Frick said as he lit his glow and started separating antenna pieces. Elena headed inside to check cabling.

By nightfall, the antenna was placed back on the roof. It would not be fully fixed until tomorrow, but Frick was pleased with their progress. He now knew what would be needed, and he was confident he could get the necessary repairs made the next morning, with a little help. He was right.

The entire Deliverance crew spread out through Havana, lending a hand (or wing, or hoof, or paw) in various repairs, salvage, or general assistance. Foster helped the guard force commander organize and develop an airborne ‘community watch’ system, using hand-held radios with the command center being at the old Fort. That way, the ‘eyes in the skies’ could call down to the ground forces, telling them where to go. Such an idea, when demonstrated to the guard force commander, a hippogriff by name of Lucia Hernandez, led to an offer to Foster to take charge of the force. He respectfully declined, saying he had another duty to fulfill. Lucia was part of the police force of Havana, but a very low rank. In the two weeks there, Foster tutored Lucia in police procedures, and got her to work closer with the new Harbormaster in keeping a sea watch going as well.

By the twenty-ninth of June, when the Fugro Symphony arrived in port, much of the damage the Creature had inflicted on Havana had been repaired, save some checks a tech crew from the Fugro could quickly complete. The ship’s arrival was cause for a party to be celebrated that evening at the Celtic temple, a party many in town attended. Midway through the night, the F4 group, plus four, gathered in a corner of the dance square, many with drinks in hoof.

Fred led off the conversation. “Frick, you did it. Against all odds, you got us to Havana and the WSU. Got us all here, with some additions to the original group,” he said, waving a hoof at Fran, Foster, Bernie and Michie.

“Just remember, Fred, I did not get us here, WE made it here, under God’s good graces. It was a team effort,” Frick reminded the group.

“A team effort and unbridled unselfishness,” Frack added, a wing around Bernie. “How many times did we stop and help other places get up on their feet?”

“Quite a few times,” Fran said, one hand on a sleepy Michie. “Kansas City, Saint Louis, Memphis, Vicksburg, North Point, Pensacola, Tarpon Springs, Saint Pete, Fort Myers and Key West before here, making friends each step of the way. Something we all can take pride in doing.”

“If we didn’t have a skill, we improvised until we learned,” Frieda pitched in with. “Who would have thought we could make a wagon that would fold up for storage? Or I can learn to make saddlebags and harnesses?”

“Or that Her Majesty would decide to reach out from her domain to other groups? Ah wouldn’t have thought it possible, until she made me her rovin’ ambassador,” Foster said, one hoof absently brushing the green emerald pendant he wore constantly.

“Or I could move on from where my life had come to a stop and begin again, learning from past mistakes,” Bernie put in.

“Just remember, we’re only halfway to our goal. We still have to pick up our friends, and make it to Maasvlakte. Only then will I consider the first part of our quest complete, and the rest of our lives begin,” Frick said, raising his glass high before sipping from it. (Whiskey and water, 10% whiskey, 90% water)

“Amen to that, Frick,” Fred countered, raising his drink.

Author's Note

Havana at last. End of the road. Time to link up with the WSU and head off to a new life as part of a community. Yes, but they are not there yet. Still have a ways to go yet.

Picking up others and getting across the ocean remain to be done. Frick will find it a relief, because someone else will have all the worries. Story's not over yet!

Next chapter- the way to the new home.

Chapter 35: Two Ships Passing By In The Day

It proved to be a trying, difficult week for the Deliverance crewfolk, that last week in Havana before the Fugro Symphony pulled out. Difficult not only in aiding the Fugro’s crew in tech work around the city, but in turning over control of the Deliverance to the Havana Maritime Authority. The first five (Frick, Fred, Frieda, Frack and Fran) worked closely with Raul the Harbormaster, Elisa the Radio Operator, and their assistants. Fran was thorough in removing personal data from the computer, instructing others on how to use the computer, and programming one tablet and one laptop to operate the boat remotely.

All the medicinal herbs they had collected were turned over to the custody of the Fugro Symphony’s medic, Lillian Shepard, for safekeeping, including the nineteen poison joke bombs left over from the Creature’s attack, which were handled with EXTREME care, for sure! The cooler with the vacuum-packed herbs and petals soon found a home in the Fugro’s dispensary, the medic almost drooling at the thought of boosting potion production to undreamed-of heights.

Gradually, all of the Deliverance personnel, passengers and crew, moved their possessions to berths aboard the Fugro. Tina and Harry shared a cabin, as did Fred and Frieda, Frack and Bernie, Frick and Foster, and Fran, Michie and Capo.

Fred and Frieda looked at their cabin after unpacking. “Our home for a couple of weeks. Think you can put up with the workload?” Fred asked his wife of forty-plus years.

“Oh, I think so,” Frieda replied, putting a wing around her husband. “I look forward to seeing the children again from Pensacola. I’ve chatted with some of them a couple of times. They miss our teaching them.”

“They will have another chance, Maw. Think you can handle being a teacher as well as a librarian?” Fred asked.

“I think so, Paw. No real school boards to have to put up with, nor obstructionist town councils who constantly tried to cut the library budget. That one time I was hospitalized for two weeks from exhaustion trying to keep the place going by myself showed them just how important a library is!” Maw snapped with a little rancor. Being in the hospital was not fun. All the kids coming to see her while she was hospitalized WAS fun. It also convinced the Town Council to allow her to hire a full time aide and two Council Folk volunteered Saturdays for several years.

“I’m sure Captain Skinner would like a volunteer little-wrangler to keep the kids out from underfoot. Interested in the job?” Fred asked.

“I think we both are, Paw. Will keep us both busy at sea. Feel like adopting one or two of the kids?” Frieda asked, sounding more than a little wistful.

“Don’t get too far ahead of things, Maw. Let’s see what things are like over there,” Fred cautioned.

“Good point, Paw.”

In another stateroom, Frack and Bernie placed their saddlebags. “Ready for another ocean voyage, Bernie?” Frack asked.

“Yes, so long as I don’t have to drive, nor have to squint half the time. That hat you got me at Key West has been a big help,” Bernie admitted.

“Seeing as you’ve been wearing it ever since, I’m just glad you like it,” Frack said as he gave the thestral a gentle nuzzle. “I’m just glad we can have some time ALONE together.”

“Same here,” Bernie replied, leaning into the nuzzle.

Next door, Frick and Foster put their saddlebags up. Frick also took the time to plug in his laptop, tablet and phone, using a power bar and an adapter thoughtfully provided by the Fugro’s steward. “In a way, I’m happy not to be in charge any more, but, I’m going to miss that little boat,” he sighed as he pulled up some pictures on his tablet.

“Ah know what you mean, Frick,” Foster said from his bunk. “Ah was sheriff for twenty-five years, and welcomed the challenges that came with the job. But, aftah the Event, ah found that not havin’ to worry about the parish was a bit of a relief. Don’t mind havin’ seniority, and ah DEFINITELY don’t miss the responsibility. Ah have to say, in the tahm we sailed together, you did a damn fahn job, pickin’ people to get the job done and stayin’ out of their way.”

“Coming from you, Foster, I can and will believe those words. I just took the best of what I had learned and put the knowledge to use. Everyone made it to their destination safely, we helped out a bunch of people along the way, and none of us were hurt for long. I’m going to spend time here in the cabin while we pull out. I don’t want to look back now,” Frick said as he rolled into his bed. “I’m tired.”

“I know the feeling, Frick. I’ll stay with you. I can use a nap,” Foster said. Frick wasn’t listening, having fallen asleep as soon as he stopped talking. Soon, Foster was asleep as well.

Down the corridor, Fran, Michie and Capo looked around the stateroom they were assigned. “Bigger than the cabins on the Deliverance, right?” Fran asked the kitten.

“Room to play on the floor, yeah! Now I can use my colorin’ books! You will help me read them, right?” Michie asked, looking up at Fran.

“Of course I will! Learning another language is easy if you start early. Eager to start?” Fran asked, putting her suitcase down. She had already put her bicycle and cart up in a cargo hold. The cart is big enough for Michie and groceries.

“What about Capo? Where will he stay?” Michie asked, looking around the cabin.

The scarlet macaw perched on a rail at the end of one of the beds. “Here now! Better perch later!” he squawked.

“That works,” Fran said as Michie dug into her little carry bag, pulling out a coloring book and a box of crayons, setting them on the table before scrambling up into a chair. With a smile, Fran sat down after pulling the other chair over. Together, they opened the coloring book and Fran started teaching Michie Spanish, the macaw ‘supervising’ his little ward’s progress.

The Fugro Symphony sailed from Havana Harbor at noon on the sixth of July, twenty-sixteen, destination Pensacola, estimated arrival time morning of the eighth. With Frick sound asleep during the departure, it fell to Fred to call ahead to the leader of the Pensacola colony, Deacon John Doyle.

“Day after tomorrow, eh? We will be ready and waiting. Which pier are you going to be using?” John asked.

“From what I have been told, Palafox Pier. Somewhere around there. If there will be any changes, I’ll call you that morning. Going to leave the hideouts ready for any future users?” Fred asked in return.

“Already have. We’ve left notices in places with salvage, at the airport and train station as well, all directing folk to the basilica. Tomorrow, we will glean all the fields, shut down and service the generators, and leave this place ready for use. We’re also leaving several radios here, with world-band transmitting capability, to call out. Hopefully someone will hear them,” John reported.

“That’s the general idea, Deacon. It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s the best we can come up with. Kids ready to head out?”

“You better believe it, Fred. I’ve got them all looking forward to Rotterdam. I’ll have to admit, some of them can do with stable homes. What are the odds?”

“Better than average, John. We can use the voyage to compare notes, and do some research with the Fugro’s crew as to who’s open to the idea. They know better than we do,” Fred said.

“True, that is. Be ready for a loud welcome when they see Uncle Fred and Aunt Frieda again! Plus, the earth ponies have been putting in overtime on the fields, so we’ll have a big crop to donate!”

“Appreciated, but not required, as I have said, but I know for sure you want to do so to give thanks. I’ve made sure the WSU understands that. Bring all you’ve got, it won’t go to waste!” Fred told his fellow clergypony.

“See you Friday, Fred! Our best to the rest!” John said before hanging up.

Fred chuckled as he cleared his phone before dialing Tarpon Springs and Will Sutton. “I’m going to enjoy seeing the kids again,” he said to himself around the stylus he was biting to dial Will. “Contacts… scroll down, down, down… Will! There we go!”

Fred had a nice conversation with Will, giving him their ETA and the go-ahead to bring along four goats, along with fodder for three weeks. Will said he will also bring all the butchered goats he will have accumulated as a donation to the crew, to be told in return that it wasn’t necessary, but welcome.

Fred’s last call of the day was to Joan Tucker, in Saint Petersburg. She said that she would be ready, intending to spend the day before arrival harvesting, gathering and storing medicinals, and vacuum-bagging them. “Hold off on the poison joke until we get there, okay? Best let the unicorns handle that stuff,” he cautioned.

“Got that right! I’ll have everything packed and ready to go before you tie up. Pull in at the big pier south of the airport there and I can meet you. I can lead a team back for second pickings!” Joan said over the phone. “Will be nice to see you again, Fred! My best to everyone, and don’t let the bat know I have a case of both whole mangoes and mango puree set aside for her. Let it be a surprise, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, Joan! See you soon!” Fred said before hanging up. Not half a minute later, Frieda came into the cabin.

“I’ve just inspected our cargo area, back aft. Would you believe Eduardo stuck a second TEU container in with the one he already promised us?” Frieda reported, still a bit startled.

“What’s in the second, Maw?” Fred asked, putting his phone back on its charger.

“More of the same, plus about twelve cases of mixed liquors from a distillery and eight barrels full of rum that had yet to be bottled. Also, I found a box labeled for Michie.”

“What’s in it?” Fred asked.

“Don’t know. Have not looked. But I do know all of our grains, flours, kitchen goods and whatnot are all safely under lock and key here. We worked hard for that food, and I wasn’t about to leave it all behind!” Frieda declared, raising a claw high.

Fred chuckled as he moved in close to hug his wife. “Beyond doubt, love. I didn’t check before leaving, but did those eggs we brought from Key West hatch?”

Frieda nodded. “I talked to the leader of the co-op yesterday. All twenty-four hatched out, from both Naples and Key West, bringing some more diversity to their flocks. Gustavo said there would be something special from him in the cargo, but he didn’t specify, and I only inspected the second, not the first,” she explained.

“Shall we go inspect before helping at dinner?” Fred asked, putting a foreleg around Frieda’s paw, leaning in for a kiss.

“Sounds like a plan!” Frieda said with a pleased giggle before leading Fred to the storage area.

That evening, at dinner, Captain Skinner sat down with Frick, Fred, Frieda and Foster with a roster of questions about their first stop. “Now, I know I have more than enough accommodations for everyone we plan on picking up, but I want some assurances from you aboot their behavior,” the hedgefog said to the group.

“Ask away, Captain. In this instance, you are our benefactor, and we want to stay on your good side,” Frick said seriously.

“Can ye make sure ye can keep the younger ones from gettin’ underfoot?” Edgar asked.

Fred handled that question. “Tomorrow, I would like you or one of your officers to escort Frick, Frieda and I around, to make clear where the kids can go unescorted, where they can go with an escort, and where access is forbidden unless specifically asked for. Once they board, we will meet with them, escort them to their quarters, and once settled, bring them back here for instructions.”

“We are counting on the respect they have for us and for their leaders to not cause trouble while aboard,” Frieda added. “We spent a month with them, and we’ve already been informed that they are eager to see their aunt and uncle again.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, okay?” Edgar said, pointing a finger at the Deliverance group, a faint crackle of electricity coming from the digit. “When we get back to Rotterdam, I will be in charge until Captain Pradeek gets back from his expedition, Captain Lorelei intending to head out three weeks after we pull in. Get the kids to behave and I will do all I can to find them good and proper homes.”

“Captain, I can assure you we will do the best we can. We love those kids, and want to see them well-adjusted to these unusual circumstances. Let’s find them the best possible role models and take it from there,” Frick said.

Foster spoke up then. “As the only one aboahd with any soaht of parentin’ experience, ah can assure you that while we was there, the kids needed someone to look up to, an’ Deacon Doyle did the job adequately, as did the three ladies aboahd. Ah’m wantin’ to see how they turned out mahself,” he drawled, sipping some of the shipboard coffee and trying not to grimace.

“I hope they took to their lessons well, Sheriff,” Captain Skinner said. “I won’t administer discipline, but I will provide it as needed and let the Deacon dish it out. May I not have to,” he finished sipping from his tea mug, which was a lot better than the coffee.

“May we not have to,” Frick replied. “With your permission, I would like to check out our cargo stowage. It’s been hinted that we were given more than we agreed to, and I would like to check it out.”

“I’ve got no problem with that. I do know my engineer wants to get together with you sometime before moorin’ to ask about your folding wagon. Truly ingenious, she said,” Edgar admitted.

“Just some Cornhusker ingenuity and the need to bring it along, but where?” Fred said. “Took some guessing, but we got it done. Served us well and we’re not giving it up.”

“I can see your point, sir,” Edgar said, nodding in understanding. Items crafted with one’s own hands take on a whole different meaning than something picked up at a store.

Friday, July eighth, twenty-sixteen, after breakfast but before lunch, the Fugro Symphony came within sight of the barrier island south of Pensacola, Florida. Frack and Frieda made a suggestion to Captain Skinner for them to go ahead of the ship and make sure the group was ready to go. The Captain approved, once they were able to tune one of the ship’s radios to the portable radio frequency the Deliverance’s crew used. Once that chore was done, the pair flew ahead to meet and greet the Pensacola crew, who they last met six weeks before.

To be sneaky, and also taking advantage of the moderate cloud cover, the two landed on a cloud that was heading towards the Basilica. Frieda took her phone out and called the Deacon.

“Aunt Frieda! You in the neighborhood?” John asked cheerfully.

“The ship’s just clearing the inlet now, should be mooring in about an hour. Mind if Frack and I drop in?” Frieda replied over her satphone.

“Drop in? Are you two pulling my wing or something?” John asked rhetorically.

“Who, us? See you in a couple of minutes, John!” Frieda said before hanging up and stowing her phone. “Let’s dive, Weather Eight!”

“Let’s do it, Gunner Eight!” Frack laughed as the two dove from the cloud to the basilica’s roof, where they were met by the entire winged contingent. Once down on the parking lot, the rest of the Pensacola group met them, and a good five-minute hug fest ensued before the Deacon called everyone to order.

“Okay, everyone, we’ll have plenty of time to do more meeting and greeting later. Right now, teams one, two and three hitch up and start going down to Palafox Pier. Mister Frack will accompany the teams. Team Four will assist me in making sure the shelter is ready for the next refugees who need it. Aunt Frieda, will you join Team Four and I in doing so?” John asked.

“It will be my pleasure to help, Deacon. Have you been raiding every grocery within five miles?” Frieda asked with a laugh at the three wagons full of goods.

“No, every third one!” John said with a smile as six of the seven earth ponies lined up to get hitched to the wagon, the adult earth pony, Karen Pitt, supervising. The wagons built there were designed for two ponies to pull then, because the kids were not as strong and durable (or as big) as the one adult. Sharing the load helps.

Frick watched over the hitching up. “I like the way you’ve broken down the loads and ponies, Karen. The two smallest with the lightest load. Well done,” he said in approval.

“It took a week or so to figure everything out, but we managed. We pushed the fields the last two weeks to have a good harvest to offer for our passage, plus, a good stock of canned goods. The basement pantry is full of non-perishables, and we have flour and grains in airtight containers,” Karen said, holding up a hoof as Frack opened his mouth. “I know, it wasn’t necessary, but we have our pride, too. Doing this makes us feel good.”

“Well I know the feeling, Karen,” Frack said gently as he looked down the line of wagons. “All ready to roll?” he called out to the ponies, which amounted to about three-quarters of the population.

“Let’s do this!” Karen called out. The line of wagons started moving down Palafox Street, Frack coming up with a marching song that was totally appropriate for nine-year-olds and up, the kids joining in. It was not quite a mile to the pier, where the kids were able to see the Fugro Symphony approach.

Back at the basilica, John led the six with him (Anne Jones and her two children, and all three Abyssinians) in doing another pass-through of their basement habitat, ensuring all was neat and tidy for the next group. There were two plastic barrels full of clean water (with a little bleach added), along with a fully stocked pantry full of canned goods with not one, but four can openers available. Several sealed containers held wheat flour, corn meal, pasta, and other dry goods with desiccant packets included. “We wanted to leave those who come later with a good, well-stocked shelter. Hopefully, those who come later will pay it forward,” John explained as they completed the inspection, also checking the window seals were intact, to keep water out.

“Let us hope, John,” Frieda said as the Deacon shut and locked the door, leaving the key in the lock.

“All we can do, right?” he said, stepping back and spreading his wings some.

The kids were suitably impressed with the Fugro Symphony, and the crew of the Fugro were equally impressed by the kids’ behavior. After being shown their cabins, the kids were given a safety lecture by the Captain, with Renee Noir assisting in the explanations. Then the kids offered to help unload and stow the load from the wagons, which broke down to the smallest wagon with fresh produce, the middle wagon with personal possessions, and the largest with cans, boxes and jars of food. When the loading was done, the wagons were turned over, set next to the statue in the park and tied down.

Captain Skinner did not waste any time, raising and stowing the gangplanks as soon as loading was done and set course to their next destination, Tarpon Springs. That pickup will be done at sea, because the inlet is too small for the Fugro to enter, and the two there, Will Sutton and Sue Butler, will meet them offshore the next morning in two boats, bringing their worldly goods, four young goats, and enough fodder to last three weeks. He was hoping for some goat’s milk, but with two young nannies, he figured there would not be much.

The overnight cruise to Tarpon Springs was uneventful, and at eight o’clock in the morning, the ship came to a halt a quarter-mile offshore of Anclote Key, which is about five miles out from the shore. One phone call and an hour later, a motorboat approached the ship, towing two more small craft behind, one with an earth pony and four goats, the other with several tubs of grass and grains. After loading, the small craft were abandoned as the Fugro set sail for Saint Petersburg. Plans were to actually moor there the night of the ninth and sail midday on the tenth, because Skinner wanted to get as many medicinal plants from Sunken Gardens as they possibly could. One thing that made Captain Skinner quite happy is that the pair brought two gallons of goat’s milk, filtered and kept cool. Fortunately for him, not many aboard like goat’s milk.

It was only a matter of a few hours for the Fugro to get to the Port of Saint Petersburg to moor there. They moored for two reasons, those being sending Frick’s folding wagon to Sunken Gardens to harvest all they could, and sending it to the Dali Museum the next day, the Museum being very close by to the Port. As before, Frack and Frieda flew ahead, Bernie joining them this time, to help Joan pack and to visit a while before the wagon arrived.

The wagon made it there an hour later, pulled by Fred, and accompanied by Frick, Foster, Fran, Michie, and two crew members of the Fugro with telekinesis, they being the Second Officer, Mia Haraldsen (a reindeer) and the Engineering cadet, Zach Wilkins (a unicorn). At the Gardens, the unicorns and reindeer set to gently uprooting poison joke plants and placing them in sealable boxes lined with topsoil Joan had ready. The others loaded the wagon with Joan’s goods and as many other plants, fruits, vegetables, and whatnot they could get in. After a couple hours of work, the wagon was packed to its limits, Michie gleefully riding on Joan’s shoulders as they walked back to the Fugro, Fred handling the load without any difficulty.

That evening, Captain Skinner brought all the adults to the mess deck for a lecture on why he wanted to go to the Museum, saying the WSU desires to collect art works and put them into secure storage, so as not to lose fine art to history and decay. Finding the Dali Museum so close by, he figured on raiding it to see if anything tradable still existed in decent condition.

Joan raised a hand. When the Captain nodded her way, she suggested, “The Museum of Fine Arts is up the road. You may want to check that place out.”

Bernie raised a wing. “The Saint Petersburg Museum of History is across the street from Fine Arts. There are a few other museums within walking distance as well,” she said when called on.

“How do ye know aboot all that, ladies?” The Captain asked.

“We both grew up in this city,” Bernie told him. “Museums you want, museums we can find for you.”

“Miss Tucker, Miss Verstappen, after we finish this meeting, can ye two join me in my cabin with a map for some talk? If there be enough to salvage, I may extend the stay another day to get all we can,” the Captain said. “If Captain Frick would be good enough to loan the use of his wagon for a couple of days, that is.”

“I don’t have any problem with that, Captain Skinner,” Frick called out from where he sat. “Just wish you had a truck or two.”

“Aye, so do I. Just no place to ensure they stay dry when crossin’ the ocean. The ship no be built for it. Now, the other two in the fleet can. We’ll search what we can, and next time one of the others come this way, maybe they can spend a couple of days raiding. For now, we do what we can,” Skinner replied to Frick’s statement. “If there be nothin’ else, meetin’ adjourned!”

Captain Skinner did meet with Joan and Bernie that evening, plotting what to do. Deacon Jones was called in, as well as Captain Frick. Together, they came up with a plan of attack. Skinner grouped all the fliers together, then split them into three teams, one each going to the museums highlighted as being nearby, said museums being the Dali, Fine Arts, and History museums. The fliers are to go in, survey the sites, and decide which pieces to salvage, the groups being coordinated by his Second Officer. Another group, led by his Chief Officer, will take some unicorns and earth ponies out to pick up the salvaged items, using the wagon. The smallest group is to go back to Sunken Gardens, to fetch Joan’s small yard cart and look around for anything missed the day before. That group consisted of Joan, Lillian Shepard (the ship’s medic), six of the kids from Pensacola, and Sue Butler from Tarpon Springs.

The day spent salvaging did wonders for the Fugro’s crew, getting out, ‘looting’ museums, and most importantly, getting to meet and learn about the new people aboard. Each of the children found at least one crew member to bond with, and the crew found the children to be agreeable. Instead of two weeks of chaos going across the ocean like they expected, the crew looked forward to spending the trip getting to know the kids better. The evening was spent finding places in empty staterooms to store the ‘rescued’ items, the kids happily pitching in to help. No pieces of art were damaged, shattered, or marred in the rescue.

Mid-morning the next day, the eleventh of July, two thousand sixteen, the Fugro Symphony set sail from Saint Petersburg, looking forward to an uneventful cruise to Belfast, then on to Maasvlakte. That hope lasted until a little after noon, when a signal came over the radio. “Mayday, Mayday! This is the MV Polar Princess, out of the Port of Tampa, destination New York,” said the voice of a young lady. “Coordinates are twenty-seven degrees thirty-three decimal one minutes north, eighty-two degrees forty-eight decimal six minutes west. All hands aboard have been changed into different sorts of creatures. Can anyone hear and help us?”

Author's Note

Just when you think it's all over, ANOTHER complication...

from somewhere, a loud blaring noise, then WARNING! THIS IS A PLOT COMPLICATION! followed by the noise of a hammer being pulled back, then a BLAM!

ooh, ya got me.... ..thump...

I warned you, Desmond! Now, as I was saying, another ship joins the fleet. Maybe. It is hoped. Can this crew recover their wits soon enough to prevent an oops happening? Can the Fugro get there in time? Will Frack and Bernie finally admit their love for each other? For the answer to these and other pressing questions, wait a week or two. You'll get answers!

Chapter 36: Flocking to the Rescue

Captain Skinner quickly went for the radio. “Polar Princess, this is the Fugro Symphony. We hear you, and are not far from your location. Do not panic, because what happened to you has happened to everyone. We went through this last year ourselves. Now, who be you, lassie?” he said. He quickly gestured for his Chief Officer to plot the location of the stricken ship. He knew they were nearby, but not exactly how near.

“I’m Third Officer Haugen. The Captain is doing a walkdown now. Just holding on to the microphone is a chore, seeing as I have no hands, but hooves. Did you say last year, Fugro?” the voice said, displaying not so much shock as incredulity.

“Aye, lassie. This is Captain Skinner speaking. Now, tell me what conditions were like when ye set sail, and the exact time and date things went south, okay? We’re homing in on your stated position, and should be there within a couple of hours,” Skinner said.

“Thank you, Captain. We set sail from the Port of Tampa at zero-four-hundred the twenty-third of May, two thousand fifteen with a cargo of goods destined for New York City, Manhattan Pier five-seven, no later than Wednesday morning, the twenty-seventh of May, at eleven hundred hours,” the voice was showing more life than wooden-ness now. “We had cleared Tampa Bay and had turned south when a brilliant flash lit up the early morning, and it became noontime, with everyone in Control turned into various furry or feathered creatures. May I ask just what is going on?”

Skinner nodded at the Third Officer’s report. She sounded rational and in control, which is not common to the newly Returned. “Lassie, have you put the ship at a full stop yet? Let us come to you to help,” he told the woman on the other end of the radio.

“Yes, the Captain ordered all stop right after the flash. Do you need our coordinates again, Fugro Symphony?” Third Officer Haugen asked.

“No, lassie, we have them. We should be in your vicinity within an hour and a half. You will see our scouts first, they will fly on ahead and render what aid they can before we arrive. If ye can hold on another two hours, help will arrive. Do ye copy that, Polar Princess?” Skinner asked.

“Polar Princess copies advice, Fugro Symphony. I will remain in Control until the Captain returns from his ship inspection. My helmsman now has green feathers and wings showing from under his shirt, or else I would be more skeptical. Right now, we have a ship’s crew to gather together. Polar Princess standing by,” Third Officer Haugen said before the radio went quiet.

“Fugro Symphony copies traffic,” Skinner said before putting the radio mic down and picking up the interior communications mic. “Attention all crew and passengers, this is the Captain. All off-duty personnel report to the mess decks. A ship has Returned nearby, and we’re going to go help them. All hands an’ hooves report to the mess decks for a full report and a decision on what to do.”

Skinner then looked at his Second, Mia Haraldsen. “Keep an ear on the radio and such. Full power ahead and let me know if their Captain calls or we get in sight of them, if I’m not already back,” he told the blue reindeer, who nodded and moved up to the radio.

The Captain made his way to the mess decks, which were filling up with both crew and passengers, young and old. Once everyone was there, he informed everyone on what had happened, and what steps he was taking to help out. “What I would like to do is send some fliers over, those with the technical skills to take over operating the ship until such time as we can get there physically. Now, who would like to step forward to volunteer for the first wave?”

With his eyes, he picked out three of his crew, his Chief Officer, Berry Quinn, a black dragon; his Third Engineer, Konrad Ericson, a griffin; and his medic, Lilian Shepard, an asian dragon. They came forward along with the ones he was hoping for. From the Deliverance crew, Harry Bell and Frack Larsen, the pegasi; Bernie Verstappen, the thestral, and Frieda Halvorsen, the griffin. From the Pensacola team, John Doyle, the pegasus and Renee Noir, the hippogriff. “Just who I was hoping for,” he said as the six stepped forward. Most of the others left, but a few remained, like the rest of the Deliverance crew.

“All right now, lads and lasses, here’s my idea. We’re making our way to the stricken vessel at best speed, but it will take over an hour to get close. I want you lot to fly ahead and render what aid you can until we get there, Quinn, ye’re in charge. Take a GPS with ye. Anyone want tae bail out now? Here’s ye chance,” he said seriously to the assembled group.

“How far away are we from there, Captain?” Frieda asked.

“About twenty miles. Our best speed is only sixteen knots, and we had to turn because they were behind us. Can ye handle the distance?” Skinner asked again.

“Won’t be a problem,” Frack said, one wing around Bernie. “If your First Officer will guide us, I don’t see any problems getting there. Weather clear, track fast.”

“I may not be much of a sailor,” said John Doyle. “But, I’m sure I can help some of the newly converted to lose any fright they may have.”

“That’s why I’m glad ye volunteered, Deacon. Everywing, meet on the after deck in fifteen minutes. Grab what ye want to bring and head there. Quinn, with me to Control,” Skinner said to everyone. “Dismissed.”

Fifteen minutes later, everyone gathered on the afterdeck, some with saddlebags carrying first aid gear. “No word yet, but the Captain there has been doing a walkdown. I’m sure your presence will be helpful. Quinn, lead everywing there and call me once ye get there. We’ll be no more than an hour behind ye.” Skinner told the assembled party.

“We’re on it, Captain,” Quinn, a short black dragon with yellow eyes, told Skinner before being the first one in the air. “Let’s go!” The team followed him off the deck, forming up and heading north, Quinn leading, then the Third Engineer and medic, behind them Frieda, John and Harry, Frack and Bernie next, and Renee bringing up the rear. Both Fran and Frick shot some video of the team leaving.

Not ten minutes later, a male voice came over the radio on the distress frequency. “Fugro Symphony, this is Captain Vannevar Haugen of the Polar Princess. Do you copy?”

Skinner was quick to grab the microphone. “This is Captain Skinner of the Fugro Symphony. We read you loud and clear. Help is on the way. What be your status there?” he asked.

“A lot better than I had expected to find it, Captain Skinner. Everyone aboard is accounted for, and not many severe injuries. All of us have been changed, though. Dogs, cats, a bird, a zebra, unicorns, pegasi, horses, and some things I don’t quite have the words for yet, Captain. I want to say it’s somewhat stable here, but that’s on a knife’s edge. My third said you’re sending help. Is that correct?” Captain Haugen asked.

“They should be there within twenty minutes. We will be about an hour behind. We are going to have a lot to talk about, Captain. You are going tae need to adjust fast, an’ ye doon’t hae much time tae do it in,” Skinner replied. “Is the ship stable?”

“For now, I have to say yes. My Third is very competent indeed, just needs more experience. She graduated Kings Point less than two years ago,” Captain Haugen told Skinner, referring to the United States Merchant Marine Academy, located east of New York City.

“I hae noticed the similarity of names, Captain. She be a relative of yours?” Skinner asked.

“My eldest daughter. She’s a black unicorn, while I’m more of a black spotted reindeer. The duty helmsman is a parrot, my Chief Officer is a pegasus and my Second is a very small shaggy-maned horse. I know he’s all right, because he’s been swearing in Icelandic since I found him. Let me get back to looking after my ship, Captain Skinner. Hope to see you soon. Polar Princess ten-ten,” Captain Haugen said before going quiet.

“Fugro Symphony standing by,” Skinner said before putting the microphone down.

“At least they’re not ramming another ship,” Mia commented.

“Aye, ye got that right.”

The flock from the Fugro circled the Polar Princess, surveying it from stem to stern. “Container ship,” Quinn said, looking down.

“Where would be a good place for us all to land?” Frieda asked.

Quinn pointed with a claw. “There, ahead of the superstructure. Room for all of us,” he answered before calling out, “Follow me!” before circling to land on the ship. One by one, the others followed.

A hatch opened, revealing a bright red pegasus with white wings, the red shading towards orange down the legs. “You’re from the Fugro, right?” the pegasus asked.

“That’s right. I’m Chief Officer Quinn, and with me are” he said before naming his crew.

“I’m Chief Officer Cranston. Glad you brought some medical personnel. We have several injuries, the most critical being one of our oilers. He changed into a zebra while going down a flight of steps, and fell a good two levels before stopping. Doctor Moscone’s with him now, but he’s afraid to move him,” the red pegasus said to the group.

“With good reason, I’m sure,” Lilian said. “Where be the rest of your injured?”

“In sickbay, waiting. I’ll guide you there, then the rest of you to Control, to meet the Captain. Your ship should be here soon, right?” Chief Cranston asked.

“Within an hour at the most. We’re just the advance party, to get here and see just what you need to get stable, then your captains can have a discussion on what to do and where to go. Do lead the way, Chief,” Quinn suggested.

“Follow me,” Cranston said as he led the way into the superstructure and up. “I can really get these wings to work?”

“Sure can, mister!” Frack said from where he was walking. “There’s just three things you have to keep in mind. You can, it’s possible, and it works. You don’t need to knowhow it works, you just need to know that when you flip the switch, it’s on, and you can. I had to teach a bunch of kids how to fly, and if they could, you can too.”

“He’s not kidding, Chief Cranston. He’s taught me to fly, and a lot of others. Trust the magic, it’s there, so use it!” Frieda said.

Cranston stopped and held up a wing. “Please, everyone, call me ‘Crank’. Been called that since I was ten. You all have the rank to get away with it. Just what do you mean by ‘magic’?” he asked.

Chief Quinn blinked a little, thinking. “Wait on that question until we are all together. Explanations will be easier then,” he said slowly.

Crank shrugged with his wings and shoulders. “I can buy that. Medical’s around the corner here,” he told the group as he led them inside, to reveal a rather young griffin who had a wing out of joint, and an oxblood minotaur supporting a sooty black Abyssinian. “Schmidt, Awad, Sharon, these are some friends who have come to help us out. I’ll leave the medics here and get the rest to Control.” he said to the ones waiting. Lilian and Frieda moved aside while Crank led the others out.

Lilian quickly took charge of the room. She went to the griffin first. “Taken by surprise and caught your wing on something?” she said as she examined the griffon.

“Ja…” the griffin muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

“Spreche deutsch?” Frieda asked. When the griffin nodded, she moved up next to the griffin, swiftly grabbed the dislocated wing and popped it back into place. The young griffin let out a yelp and a shiver. “The pain will fade quickly. Let me get you some cold packs and pain gel,” she said as she started rummaging through her saddlebags.

“You are an evil doctor…” the griffin muttered.

“No, I’m an evil librarian with an EMT certification I have maintained since the Seventies, young man…” Frieda said firmly as she applied some pain relieving gel on the formerly dislocated wing joint before applying cold packs and bandages.

Lillian went to the other two. “Now, just what do we have here?” she asked.

The Abyssinian spoke up first. “When the change happened, I dropped the oil sample I was about to examine, then I slipped on it. I either sprained my left ankle, or something worse. Achmed there brought me here,” he explained as the minotaur picked him up and set him on the exam table.

“Hey, we’ve been friends for how long now, Sam?” Achmed said as he laid Sam out.

“Five years? I lose track. I just know we can have fair, frank discussions without dropping into partisan arguments,” Sam said before letting out a yelp of pain as Lilian worked the foot.

“Those two have been fighting the Arab-Israeli war now for as long as I have been aboard,” Schmidt muttered as Frieda bound his wing. “It’s just how they do it I wish their governments would think of doing.”

“How’s that?” Frieda asked.

“They both think the eternal war between them is ridiculous, so they sit back and laugh at the foolishness of both Arab and Israeli leaders. If only the leadership would back off and let people live, then all will settle down,” Schmidt said quietly.

“At least someone has good sense…” Frieda muttered as she finished binding up Schmidt’s wing. “Shall we chat?”

In Control, Crank brought the party in to meet the Captain, Third Officer and the seaman at the helm, respectively a black reindeer with white spots, a black unicorn with silver-blonde mane and tail, and a short, squat-bodied green Ornithian respectively.

After introductions, the first thing Captain Haugen asked the group from the Fugro was, “I’m glad you brought the minister. I have a crew of thirty-one, with three injured, six gender bent, two reduced in age to children, and right now, I confess to saying that I have no idea on where to go or what to do to keep my crew safe.”

Chief Quinn was the first to reply. “Captain, the Fugro Symphony will be here within an hour. I will not be surprised at all if Captain Skinner is on a three-way video call with the other two captains of our group, the World Seafarer’s Union, right now. What’s bad is that one of the captains is in our base in Maasvlakte, where it is mid-evening, and the other is in the Eastern Mediterranean, where it’s damn near midnight. I am to figure out your ship’s status, to determine if it is safer to bring you to Rotterdam, or the colony in Havana. If we can guide Deacon Doyle and the rest to where your crew is, we can get started on sorting them out and bring everyone up to speed on the world today,” he said to the group.

Captain Haugen nodded in agreement. “That would be a good idea. I want my crew settled down and caught up on current events. Just where is everyone, anyhow? There were thirty-eight ships on radar earlier, now there’s just one!” he pointed out, his Norwegian accent which was faint before, becoming more prominent. “Third, please escort those who wish to go to the mess decks.”

“Yes, Captain,” the Third Officer replied. “Please follow me. We have all had a bit of a shock.”

“As have we all, Miss,” Renee Noir said in her slow English. “Chief Quinn, I want to help to figure out ship status. I served up to Chief Officer on a fishing boat out of Haiti for years. A ship this big, no, but experience lots.”

“Thank you for offering, Miss Noir. Please do so,” Quinn said as the others, except the Third Engineer, exited the Control room.

They had not gone far at all before an alarm bell started ringing, and an accented voice came over the loudspeakers. “Fire! Fire in the engine room! Generator spaces port side!”

“That’s Doctor Moscone. He went down to tend to an injured crewman,” the third officer said quietly.

“Forget the mess decks, lead us there!” Frack said in a commanding voice.

“What can you do down there? What can anyone here do? No hands,” Third Officer Haugen observed.

“We know of workarounds. Lead us!” Frack barked. “I’ll defend this ship to the last drop of her blood!” as he pointed a wing at Bernie.

“Thank you very much, Frack. I’m not going to forget you said that,” she observed in a very dry voice.

“Hey, I have a reputation to live up to! Lead the way!” Frack countered, taking charge.

“Don’t you mean down to, lover boy?” Bernie riposted saucily.

“Follow me. Down this ladderway,” Third Officer Haugen said, leading the way.

Harry and John met gazes and rolled their eyes. The lovebirds were at it again, or was it they hadn’t stopped yet?

Author's Note

Well, well... another ship in the fleet, one that can be of vast help to the WSU, if the crew can keep their act together. With help from the veterans, meaning those who have spent more time as non-humans, the possibility is there.

Now is the time for all good ponies (and others) to come to the aid of their brethren, yes?

Now, who will put their best hoof (or whatever) forward and aid their fellow former humans? More important, how will they do it? For the answer to these and other questions, tune in for the next chapter!

Chapter 37: Can Frack Hold His Temper?

The group went down the ladderway at best possible speed without tripping, which was annoyingly slow to most of the ponies, but they knew why. Near the foot of the stairs they found a zebra lying on the floor with two obvious broken legs and a ginger tabby Abyssinian wearing a lab coat and shirt, both loose on his slender frame. “Whatcha you be do down here, eh? Who are you?” the Abyssinian asked in New York-accented fractured English.

“Doctor Moscone, I’m the Third. The rest are visitors from another ship nearby. Where’s the fire?” Third Officer Haugen snapped.

The doctor waved an arm aft. “Switchboards. Snapping and cracking from there, plus smoke. How we get Larry Kabila up to Sickbay, eh? I no can carry him! Got any ideas, Marge?” he said to the Third.

Frack stepped forward. “I do. Third, you’re a unicorn. So is my big brother. YOU can lift this fellow here and keep him stable all the way back up, but it’s going to take a lot of mental effort the first time. Are you up to some quick coaching from a know-it-all who doesn’t?” he snapped at the unicorn.

John came forward as well. “I’ve been teaching some unicorn colts and fillies now for several months. If you listen and pay attention, we can get out of this mess. Think you can?” he asked in gentler tones.

Marge made up her mind fast. “First, let me survey this fire scene. Then, help me call Control. After that, I will listen to how to lift the oiler, Deacon. Follow me.” she said bluntly as she walked aft, Frack and Bernie accompanying, the rest waiting with the doctor.

“Hey! She say youse a deacon? Catolico?” the doctor asked.

“That I am, Doctor. John Doyle, formerly Deacon of the Basilica of Saint Michael the Archangel in Pensacola, Florida. Pleased to meet you,” John said, holding out a forehoof, which the doctor shook.

“Mama mia… lot going on here,” the doctor muttered in Italian.

“You better believe it,” John whispered in Latin, which was close enough to modern Italian to pass muster.

Farther aft, Marge led Frack and Bernie to a bank of electrical switchboards, one of which had some smoke wafting out of the louvers. She looked over the scene and came to a quick decision. “Help me with the intercom. I have to call Control to shut this bus down,” she said brusquely.

Frack went to the intercom and removed the handset from its clip with a wingtip. “Which number to dial?” he asked.

“One-one,” Marge replied, to which Frack punched in the number and held the phone to Marge’s ear.

Three rings, then the phone was picked up on the other end. “Control. Report.” Captain Haugen said quickly.

“Captain, Third. De-energize the One Romeo Fox switchboard. Short circuits developing inside. Will need to go in and find problems,” Marge reported.

“De-energize One Romeo Fox, aye. We’ll have some time to get it fixed, but not much,” the captain said before he moved the phone away from his head, and Marge could only hear indistinct noises until there were two thumps from the bus panel she was standing at. “One Romeo Fox bus de-energized. Do you need fire suppression systems activated?”

“Negative, Control. One cee-oh-two should do it, if one can be brought to bear,” Marge said.

Bernie quick-stepped to where one was mounted on the bulkhead, deftly unbuckled it with her wingtips and carried it to the scene. Marge pointed to where she wanted the gas and stepped back, along with Frack. Several blasts of the cold gas put paid to whatever was smoldering in there. “Thank you, Miss Verstappen. Now, Mister Larsen, please explain how I could possibly lift Mister Kabila and carry him up several flights of stairs without damaging him further or causing pain?” she asked, a faint hint of sarcasm coming to her voice, which Frack was very quick to pick up on.

Frack stopped, his hooves stomping on the deck plates, his wings flaring. “Now you just listen up here, Miss Third Officer Marge Haugen! You are fully capable of doing just that. I am going to do my best to teach you how to get started in this, because I watched Frick struggle through doing so, AND a bunch of foals in Pensacola, one of which is only nine, yet she can lift twice her body weight and carry said weight a good hundred yards or so in any direction before having to move to keep it in range! Now, if she can do it, what’s your damn excuse, recruit?” he bellowed, not bothering to hide his anger.

As Marge, her eyes wide in surprise, attempted to answer, Frack snapped, “And don’t you tell me it’s impossible, because I know damn well it IS possible! Focused magic can be devastating! I watched as Frick used an absolutely antique cap and ball pistol to reduce a cragadile to purple chalk dust! You better listen up and listen well if you don’t want your crewman to be crippled for life!”

Marge lowered her head, closing her eyes, her nose almost to the deckplates. “I will try, Mister Larsen. Nothing comes before the health and well-being of my crew,” she said quietly, her ears fully down and back.

Frack lowered his wings. “Much better, Miss Haugen. Now, let us get back to the others, okay? It’s easier when you have something to work on, to judge your own progress,” he said in much milder tones.

As Marge nodded and started walking, Bernie said quietly to Frack, “Glad you keep that whoop-ass tucked away until needed.”

“Only when I have to, love. Only when I have to.”

That evening, after the Fugro maneuvered alongside the Polar Princess and some temporary crew-swapping was done to train the Princess’ crew how to adapt to their new forms in a minimal way, minimal being defined as ‘learning how to manipulate what one has to with what appendages one has’, the two captains sat in Captain Skinner’s cabin, on a video conference call with the other captains of the WSU, Prateek and Lorelei.

“Captain Haugen, we think it would be best for your ship to lay over in Havana until your crew becomes more comfortable with your new forms. Once that happens, we want you to go to our repair facilities in Belfast to have your ship fitted out with items and controls better suited to your new forms than your old ones,” Captain Prateek said over a cup of Darjeeling.

“I can agree to that, Captain Prateek,” Vannevar replied, holding a cup of Coke with ice in his ice-blue glow. “It will give us some time to adapt and learn. Captain Frick has given us copies of all the downloads he has about what life is like today, and a few days in port to go over everything will help a lot. I will admit to some unease about going to Cuba, but I have been assured by many sources it is okay to do so. Maybe I can trade some of my cargo for fresh supplies and topping off our bunkers.”

“Don’t let Eduardo gouge you too much on supplies. A little is fine, but too much is too much,” Lorelei counseled.

“I’ll remember that, Captain. My thanks,” Vannevar said before sipping.

“How long do you want me to remain here, Dilip? Should I accompany the Princess across the Atlantic or not?” Edgar asked.

“Depends on one thing. Captain Haugen, can your ship and crew be ready to sail from Havana one week from today, destination Belfast, pacing the Fugro?” Dilip asked.

“If I can be allowed to poach from the passengers aboard to supplement my crew, Captain. Some of them have already started on repairs, and having hands, er, hooves aboard who can use what they have will be a help. Even some of the children will be of help. Some are sharp enough to at least be cadets,” Vannevar said without hesitating.

“If you, Edgar and Frick agree on your aides, with input from Deacon Doyle, you will have my blessing on it. It will be good to add another ship to the fleet. I won’t ask you right now about joining. Read the information, talk to Edgar, and give me your decision when I get back to Maasvlakte. Edgar, accompany Captain Haugen and his ship to Havana, get them trained and fixed up, then head to Belfast. It’s late here in the Eastern Med,” Dilip said. “Call me when something important happens. Better yet, call Lorelei, and she can decide to call me.”

“Sounds like an idea to me, Dilip. You get some shut-eye while Lorelei and I have a few more words,” Edgar said.

“Just stay tuned for more news when there is news, right, Captains?” Vannevar managed to say with a straight muzzle.

“So says the reindeer with the news who wouldn’t be news without the news?” Lorelei snorted, which made the Captains smile.

“Well said, Lorelei. Good night, all,” Dilip said before his part of the screen went black.

“I didn’t know anyone remembered Laugh-In,” Vannevar said.

“I first heard that back when I was a cadet. Don’t know where Chief Majiska first heard it, but it’s stuck with me for years.” Lorelei said.

“I watched Laugh-In in reruns when I was a kid. Just thinking about the sketches brings a laugh to me, whenever I need one and remember to remember,” Vannevar replied.

“All that aside, Lorelei, I just want your opinion on something. Do you think it is time for Captain Haugen to inspect his cargo for any possible trade value?” Edgar brought up.

“By all means, do so. I know there won’t be any additional cargo coming out of Havana for a while, because we already have it and production speeds are slow. The Polar Princess’ cargo may be her lifeline for some time yet to come. How much of a load do you have, Captain Haugen?” Lorelei asked.

“Just over half, fifty-seven percent capacity, about a third of that refrigerated or frozen. Corporate had us on a speed run from Tampa to New York. Not like we ever always know what we’re hauling, right?” Vannevar replied, kicking back a bit in his chair.

“Not like the charterers are around any more to receive their cargoes, right?” Lorelei said with an impish look on her face. “It’s late here, and I need some sleep. Call me tomorrow afternoon your time and we’ll see how things are going.”

“Sounds good, Lorelei. Until the morrow, eh?” Edgar said before disconnecting. He then turned his attention to Captain Haugen. “How are things lookin’ on your ship, Van?”

“I have reason to hope. Captain Frick has taken my unicorns for basic lessons while he fixes the 1RF panel, Mister Fred has tended to my injured, so I have two of them back now, and Mister Kabila next week, Mister Frack is giving beginning flight lessons to my winged folk, Deacon Jones and Mister Fred have offered counseling to those who want it, and I have had no crew members go postal,” Van said as he stood up from his chair and stretched some. “Next order of business, learn how to sit right!”

“I’ve heard that more than once, Van,” Edgar said as he got up as well. “Shall we head down to the galley for dinner?”

“Now, I have to say that’s a good idea,” Van said in agreement. “I’m just glad Miz Frieda is helping my lead cook determine which diet is good for each species.”

“She is good in the galley. She’s taught my cook a few things. Never thought corn bread could be so good!” Edgar admitted as he led the way down to the Fugro’s mess deck.

Aboard the Polar Princess, Captain Frick had the four unicorns gathered around him. The Third Officer Margaret Haugen, the Second Engineer Jensen Smith, the refrigeration specialist Mark Minetti, and the assistant cook Jamie Quinn watched intensely, their own horns glowing faintly as Frick used his brilliant purple glow to unscrew the cover on the panel, exposing the buswork.

“Now, you all watched me validate the bus is de-energized before I opened it. Jensen, you know this full well. Mike, you should know it. Marge, Jamie, engrave this into your brains- when you go to work on electrical equipment, make sure it is not only shut off, do your damndest to make sure it won’t come on while you’re in it! It’s a shocking experience, and I really don’t know how much your magic will shield you. So, preplan!” Frick lectured.

“Now, with the covers off, what can you see inside? Jensen, Mark, if this happened when you had hands, this would have been your job. Seeing what you do now, how do you plan on fixing it?” Frick asked.

Jensen, a pale blue furred unicorn with a red and white blurry-striped mane, spoke up. “Smoke was seen coming out from the panel. First thing to do is to look around and see where the smoke came from,” he said, his New England accent prominent. “From what I see, somehow, that bus connection came loose and started sparking. All we really need to do is clean off the connection and bolt it back into place.”

Mark, a dark gray unicorn with blonde mane and tail, agreed. “Inspect the other connections, yes, but that one is standing out. Do that first, and check around for other issues,” he said.

Frick nodded. “Not bad, both of you. Now, without hands, how will you operate your tools?” he asked before tapping his horn. “I see all of you have understood my lesson on how to turn your horns on. Now, I’m going to teach you how to use it.

“To do this basic, innate magic, you have to rely on visualizations. You have to ‘see’ yourself doing whatever you want to do,” he lectured as a purple glow covered the tool box and opened the lid. “Some unicorns visualize hands, others find their own way. Now, I want each of you to reach into the box and pick up a tool. Any tool will do. I just want to prove to you that you CAN do this. Everything else is refinements on the basics.”

Frick and crew spent three hours working on the damaged buswork, taking a good six times as long as it could have, but he was taking the time for all the new unicorns to practice manipulating tools and equipment. He even threw in some procedural errors, to see if the trainees would catch them, and they all did.

At the same time, Frack, Bernie and Renee had all the pegasi, the lone thestral, griffins and hippogriffs up on the main deck forward of the container stacks, for flight lessons, which Frack conducted in his usual fashion. Meaning, he made R. Lee Ermey look like a mama’s boy. Each being got personalized instruction until Frack was convinced they could get into the air and back on the ground (okay, deck) without breaking something. His methods had the desired results, but there’s always someone in the bunch who tries to get fancy and pays the price.

The victim this time was Sonya Mills, the teenage deck cadet. The black and tan pegasus tried a glide in and over the guard rails, but a gust of wind came up and pushed her down. Her forelegs clipped the guard rails, causing her to go splat into the deck.

Frack, as lead instructor, didn’t hesitate. Getting to Sonya, he called out “Get Frick or Foster out here, along with Fred. We need to get her to sickbay!” Blood was coming out of both of Sonya’s nostrils at a slow pace.

Chief Cranston didn’t hesitate, putting out the all-call for Foster and Fred to report to the scene. As they waited, Renee looked at the assembled flyers, a glare in her eyes and disapproval radiating from her. “All of you, lesson learn from this!” she snapped in her admittedly fractured English. Get into air, know how. Get down from air, know how some. Try do something fancy, STUPID!”

“What she said,” Frack growled as Foster and Fred arrived on scene, deliberately making their hoofbeats loud so others would clear the way.

Fred touched Sonya with a hoof while Foster got his first-aid kit out of his saddlebag. “Broken nose, moderate concussion. Foster, need your help to align her nose right before I heal it.” he said.

“Right,” Foster grunted as his gold aura reached from his horn to Sonya’s muzzle, bringing everything back into alignment.

“Hold it there, sealing now,” Fred said as his white glow intensified. The fallen pegasus shivered, but did not wake up. “Okay, let’s get her to Sickbay and wait for the Doctor.”

“On it, Fred,” Foster said as he picked up the black and tan pegasus. Once off the deck, the white unicorn and blue earth pony made their way aft, between the containers to the superstructure.

Frack got up himself, his face in a scowl. Renee knew what was coming. She moved herself BEHIND the red pegasus. “Everyone! In formation, right here, right now!” he shouted, pointing to the deck in front of him. All the fliers did so, most of them looking sheepish. The only one who didn’t was Chief Cranston, but he knew what was coming. He had delivered many a lecture himself.

Once everyone was assembled, Frack let loose. “Everywing here, listen up! Today was your first lesson in learning how to get up and down! This does not qualify you to do any damn fool stunts like what Sonya tried to pull! There is a whole lot you do NOT know yet, and stupid moves like that will ensure you won’t live long enough to learn the best parts of having wings! Now, the lot of you, give me twenty laps of the ship, between the deck and the pilothouse in altitude, counterclockwise! Now, DO IT!” he bellowed. The flock didn’t hesitate.

“Personal log, stardate 1607.14 1100 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“The Fugro Symphony and Polar Princess are now approaching Havana Harbor, where we will lay over until next Tuesday. We won’t be sitting idle, though. Many of us passengers will be working on the Princess, to make it more hoof and claw friendly. The kids can either help us or spend time on the farming commune, learning about life on a farm. Many of the kids are receptive to the idea.

“On the trip to Belfast, some of us are going to transfer to the Princess to work with the crew on this first long-duration sail. Captain Skinner is willing to be within close sailing distance from the Princess, but out of easy visual sight. Training aid both captains came up with. I agree with it. Can’t have the Princess’ crew become dependent on others.

“Of us here on the Fugro, Frack, Bernie, Foster, myself, Renee Noir, John Doyle, Tina Kovacs and Harry Bell will transfer to the Princess to act as teachers, guides, mentors, counselors, and in Harry Bell’s case, he is going to inventory the cargo units aboard the Princess. Hey, he’s a storekeeper, and that’s right up his alley. He expects to have refrigerated stores completely surveyed before reaching Belfast. I believe him.

“Time for me to head to lunch before pulling in. I have some work to check on here in Havana, mainly the antenna we installed last week. I’ve come up with an idea or two to improve performance. Until my next entry, Captain Frick out.”

Frick saved his log entry in the file with all of his other ones into his tablet and laptop. He planned on giving Sandra at the WSU his raw logs for condensing down into a podcast tentatively titled ‘If I Can Do It, So Can You!’, a project for when all this traveling will be done and over with. But now, lunch.

Author's Note

Damn, Frack has a temper, doesn't he? Well-hidden, but it's there. May you and I never have to face it.

To Havana so the crew of the Polar Princess can learn more about being who and what they are before trying to sail across the ocean. Safety first, right?

Till next week, readers!

Chapter 38: The Vex'd Bermoothes

“Personal log, stardate 1607.19 1200 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“The Polar Princess is about to leave Havana, destination Belfast. Eight of us are going to ride the Princess on this trip, not so much as supervisors, but merely as experienced hands willing to help out when needed. Fred, Frieda and Fran are staying on the Fugro, to ride herd on the kids while Deacon John is here as a counselor. Me, Frack, Bernie, Foster, Tina, John, Renee and Harry are the ones hitching a ride. Harry has been in hog heaven this past week, breaking and entering the refrigerated stores. So far, he’s found twenty containers of meat products, including beef, chicken, pork, mutton, and several mixed. Captain Haugen traded four of the containers to Eduardo in exchange for fresh provisions and refueling. He also gifted the Fugro with all the frozen goods they would like, be they meat or vegetable, of which Harry’s found at least three. He hopes to finish that inventory by the time we reach Belfast.

“I’m here to see how a big trading ship operates. Yes, I got the Deliverance down river and around the Gulf, but that’s nothing compared to a big ocean-going ship like the Polar Princess. Time to learn how a real ship operates!

“Here’s to a week or more of learning, not leading! I’m looking forward to this!”

Forty-six hours after departing Havana:

Captain Haugen was in his office, doing something he actively detested, that being routine paperwork in a decidedly non-routine manner. Harry Bell is being very thorough in his examination of the refrigerated cargo, and that is leaving Van with several perplexing questions, like what to do with all the stuff he has in cargo. Not to mention handling his crew in these unforeseen times. Nobody has gone completely mad yet, but he does have six crewmen who are now crew women, and two reduced in age to barely out of foalhood. One of them, Johannes Schmidt, had changed into a griffin, which was tolerable. However, his Second Officer, Einar Einarsson, had been changed into an earth pony. An Icelandic pony variant earth pony. A very small Icelandic earth pony. Van has both Engineering and the visitors working on how to help Einar do his job with some degree of effectiveness.

Just then, his intercom buzzed. “Captain, I have Captain Skinner on line. He wants to speak with you,” said his secretary, Julie Mills. Before she became a thestral, she could not have been called truly competent as a secretary, but he was stuck with her because she had ties to the Home Office in New York. Her cousin Sonya is the deck cadet, the one who tripped on the guard cable during flight lessons.

“Thank you, Julie. Pipe it in here, please,” Van said, watching his phone. When a light came on, he picked up the receiver in his glow. “Go ahead, Edgar.”

“Hello, Van. We’re going to make a mid-voyage pit stop. Maasvlakte has picked up a weak, repeating Morse transmission from the Royal Navy Dockyard in Bermuda. It’s not responding, so Lorelei wants us to check it out. Think your crew is up to it?” Captain Skinner asked.

Van didn’t hesitate. “Send us the course you want us to follow. Maintain the separation or close in?” he asked.

“We will converge closer to Bermuda. We’ll each send a RHIB over to investigate, along with some fliers. We should be there by nightfall tomorrow,” Edgar reported.

“I wonder what we’re going to find,” Van asked. “Do you know what the message said?”

Some noise was heard, like the hedgefog was looking for something on his desk. “Just that there are two people holed up at the Dockyard, there are some sort of crocodilians crawling about, and they are staying on their boat to keep away from the crocodilians. Crocodilians. I have an idea or two about what they are,” Edgar said.

“What’s that, Edgar?” Van asked.

“Pure trouble, that’s what. Look up a ‘cipactli’ in the monster files, and catch up with Captain Frick. He can tell you something about cragadiles.” Edgar replied.

“Okay, I’ll do that. Let me get the Princess headed that way. Keep me informed if anything new comes in,” Van said, getting up.

“Will do, Van. Fugro out,” Edgar said before hanging up.

“Polar Princess out,” Van replied, heading for control. There, he gave Chief Cranston the news about changing course and heading for Bermuda.

“Stay at fifteen knots?” Crank asked.

“Edgar didn’t say, but I would presume so. The Fugro can only do sixteen.”

“Sounds good. Want me to check out the RHIB’s?”

“Do that. I don’t know who or what we’ll need, but I want to make sure we can do this.” Van answered.

“Want to take over for a while so I can go talk with Andy about getting the boats checked?” Crank asked.

“Go get it done. I’ll stay until you get back,” Van said. Crank left Control, heading for where he knew he could find Andrew Bolton, the Chief Engineer. He was right, finding Andy in his office with Deacon Doyle. Andy had been changed into a hedgefog, like Captain Skinner. Unlike Captain Skinner, what was once he is now she. That fact did rattle Andy a lot, but counseling is helping.

“Pardon me, Deacon,” Crank said as he entered the office. “Andy, there’s some sort of distress call coming in from Bermuda. We should be there tomorrow night. Captain wants the RHIB’s checked out to send a rescue in.”

“Roight, then,” Andy said in his characteristic Devonshire accent. “Let me finish the session here, and I’ll get onto it. If we not to be there until tomorrow noight, no need to rush.”

“Fair enough. Time to get back to control. Carry on, both of you,” Crank said before leaving the office and heading back up to Control.

The next evening, off the coast of Bermuda

Both the Fugro Symphony and the Polar Princess anchored about half a mile offshore of the Royal Navy Dockyards as the sun was setting. From the Fugro, Chief Quinn and Lillian Shepard, two dragons, rose off the deck and waited as two forms lifted from the top of the superstructure of the Polar Princess, they being Frack and Bernie. Together, the foursome flew to the island to begin the search.

“We’re still receiving the signal, so their transmitter’s still working. Question is, where do we look?” Chief Quinn asked.

“I did some research. The Dockyards are now a shopping mall of some sort,” Bernie said to the others. “There are piers there. Maybe overfly it and see if any of the boats have power?”

“Good an idea as any,” Lillian said.

The foursome flew to the east side of the peninsula, where the wharves were. One thing they noticed was that there were cragadiles wandering the streets in that part of Bermuda, some catching some sun, others hunting, some just prowling. In the waters of the wharf, some larger fish were swimming about. Both dragons grunted when one of them came out of the water. “Captain’s not going to like this,” Lillian said.

“Not like what?” Bernie asked.

Lillian pointed with a claw. “That creature there is known as a cipactli. Captain met up with one in Brazil last year. We got it, but he was beat up for a while,” she said.

“Ouch,” Frack said before a flare rose into the sky from a boat in the wharf, a red ball arcing up.

“Did anyone see where it came from?” Quinn asked just before a flashlight shone up in their direction.

“That boat there,” Frack commented.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious…” Quinn muttered as the four descended to the boat, a small two-masted sailboat with a motor, as evidenced by the lights on in the cabin. Standing on the deck, waving the flashlight, was a hedgefog, clad in a rather baggy set of shorts, held up by a heavily reefed-in belt.

“Halloo there!” a British voice called up. “Can use some help here!”

“That’s what we’re here for!” Lillian called down as the four circled in for a landing. Fortunately, the sails were furled and stowed, sloppily to be sure, but there was plenty of clearance for the four to land without ramming a mast.

After landing, Chief Quinn was the first to step forward. “Berry Quinn, Chief Officer of the Fugro Symphony. With me are Lillian Shepard, our Medical Officer, along with Frack and Bernie, passengers and instructors aboard the Polar Princess,” he introduced the group.

The hedgefog stepped forward, hand extended, grinning with relief. “Doug Perrin, Captain, Royal Navy, retired. Waking up like this four days ago was a blasted surprise. Miss Shepard, maybe you can help with my wife. She stumbled going up the steps and broke one of her forelimbs,” he said, first shaking Quinn’s claw, then Lillian’s, while smiling at Frack and Bernie.

“Please, take me to her. I’m sure I can do something,” Lillian said.

“This way, please,” Doug said, leading them into the cabin. There, they found a deer sprawled on the settee, her left foreleg wrapped in a crude splint. “My wife, Ellen.”

Ellen looked up from where she was lying. “Hello,” she managed to say in a weak voice.

Lillian immediately got to work, checking and resplinting the broken limb “This will hurt some. We better see about getting you to the Fugro for proper care,” she said quietly. Ellen just sagged back down, limp.

Chief Quinn stood next to Captain Perrin. “It seems to me you were completely unsurprised to see us. How could you have known?” he asked.

The hedgefog smiled genially. “Simple. After waking up like this, one of the first things I did was to scan the world-band radio frequencies. I found DJ WSU right off, which inspired me to jury-rig a transmitter, tap out a Morse transmission into the computer, and send. Been a while since I was Radio Officer on the old Cattistock. I knew, through DJ WSU, that the Fugro Symphony and the Polar Princess were coming up the Gulf Stream, so I took a flutter on you being from one of those ships,” he explained before sagging some, losing his smile. “Ellen and I have been married twenty-six years now. This cruise was to be our long-delayed honeymoon. This happens, we change into these creatures, and the crocodilians outside really have put paid to my good humour. Is it possible to hitch a ride out with you, Chief Quinn?”

Quinn put a hand on the hedgefog’s shoulder. “We were planning on sending a couple of rhib’s over in the morning, but seeing your wife like she is advocating a change in plans. Can this boat still sail?” he asked.

“Oh, yes!” Doug replied, some spark coming back to his face (and off a couple of quills, but he didn’t notice that). “Still have fuel in the tank after sailing here from Nassau. We were anchored offshore when this happened, so I weighed anchor and pulled in to see what there was to see. Needless to say, after getting here, we decided to stay aboard. Safety, you know. Those crocodilians are fast!”

“That they are,” Frack affirmed. “We had an encounter with one in Key West. Good thing my brother was quick on the draw.”

“Your brother is Captain Frick, the Star Trek fanatic?” Doug asked.

Frack nodded, his gold mane flying about. “Sci-fi addict since Captain Video, our parents said. Been listening to his log tapes?”

“That I have. You know that DJ WSU podcasts his log tapes every other day, or whenever she gets an update?” Doug asked.

“Just wait until we get to Maasvlakte. Brother was a radio station engineer and part-time deejay ever since he graduated college. He has some programming changes in mind,” Frack said in a dry tone.

While Doug talked with Frack, Quinn went to the ketch’s deck to call the Fugro. After establishing contact, he said “We’re going to have to do the transfer tonight. I would not risk the rhib’s though. Cipactli about.”

“Oh, bother. One of those can swipe through a rhib’s hull without thinking twice. Do you have an idea?” Skinner asked.

“Yes. The couple here are on a motor-sailor ketch. I propose we sail out to meet you, then transfer the couple. Would be a shame to cast this boat adrift. It is pretty nice,” Quinn reported.

“You could always return the boat to its mooring and fly back. With Bernie on your team, she can be your lookout for any trouble in the water,” Skinner told his Chief Officer.

“Good idea. Let me bounce it off the boat’s owners and I’ll get back to you. Quinn out.”

“Fugro out.”

When Quinn ducked back into the cabin, he first checked with Lillian, who was tending to the now-unconscious deer. “How is she?”

Lillian hissed some, clearly unhappy. “There’s only one thing aboard they could use as a painkiller and anesthetic, and she’s been sipping constantly for three days now! Berry, she’s on the edge of alcohol poisoning!” She took a breath before continuing. “I want her on the Fugro ASAP to treat her properly!”

“Edgar’s come up with a way to do just that. We don’t want to use a rhib in these waters, so we’re going to sail this boat to the Fugro,” Quinn told the ship’s medic.

“Well, get a move on. We have one sick and hurting deer here. She needs care, and the Fugro has what we need to care for her,” Lillian growled.

“Will do, Doctor,” Quinn said before going to where Doug, Frack and Bernie were talking.

“Pardon me, but we’ve come up with a way to get the two of you to safety. Bernie, you’ll be the lookout. Frack, you and I will handle lines. Captain Perrin, start your mains. We’ll sail to the Fugro and get you and your wife secure, unloading whatever you want to bring with you. Then, Frack, Bernie and I will sail the boat back here to this slip and moor it securely. Captain Skinner is sure you don’t want this boat cast adrift.”

Captain Perrin first looked startled, then relieved. “You are correct, Chief Quinn. Ellen and I rented this ketch in Nassau before sailing here to Bermuda. Casting this boat adrift would be a sin, really. Parking it back here after we’re finished will be a far better fate. Go ahead and cast off all lines. Starting mains,” he said, some snap coming to his voice.

Frack and Bernie both saluted the hedgefog. “Aye, Captain!” they chorused before heading outside.

“Are they always this bonkers?” Doug asked as he started the boat’s engines.

“Doug, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Personal log, stardate 1607.22, 1600 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“Two more days before we arrive at Belfast. There, the Polar Princess will remain for two weeks of refitting, to make it more four-footed compatible. All of us passengers aboard the Princess will transfer back to the Fugro for transport to Maasvlakte, where I’m looking forward to getting back to the job I’ve been doing since college, that being working in radio. I’m sure Sandra will be happy to have an aide who knows what he’s doing.

“Some good news about the new friends we picked up in Bermuda. Captain Perrin has commanded several ships in the Royal Navy, and has requested to go into administration. His wife, Ellen, is recovering from her broken leg with good treatment and therapy, and is interested in potions. She was a compounding pharmacist and is interested in how potions are made. We went through a lot to get ingredients, and I’m interested, too, but not so much as to do it full time.

“First big chore to do once we get to Maasvlakte is to pick out and fix up a house. We’re going to need a fairly big one, because I plan on moving in with Fred and Frieda, and he’ll want a big common room for services. Frack and Bernie will want a room as well, as will Fran, Michie, and Capo. I hear that bird is making himself into a popular pest aboard the Fugro. I’ll find out for myself soon. Now, it’s time for dinner. Time to see what that goofy Filipino parrot has made for us today!”

Frick shut off the recorder, stowed his tablet, and made his way to the mess decks and Chef Aquino’s version of meated and meatless pork adobo. He decided the salad bar would be better, taking a good-sized bowl back to his room. The cooked pork smelt horrid to him, not to mention a few others. The pork they cooked on Deliverance was bad enough, but this…

Author's Note

For those who don't know, RHIB stands for Rigid Hulled Inflatable Boat. Merchant ships carry them, I'm told.

Looks like one more chapter to go in this story line. After that, there will be an all-new story, same time line, back in middle America. Details to follow.

Don't forget, the main master timeline can be found here at Along New Tides II: Thalassocracy. Give it a look. Link to the first story, Along New Tides, can be found in the story header.

Hope you all are having as much fun as I am!

Chapter 39: Maasvlakte, at last!

“Personal log, stardate 1608.02 1800 hours, Captain Frick recording.

“After over eight months of traveling, starting from Central Nebraska, we are finally within sight of our new home, Maasvlakte. If only the weather was clear and sunny, instead of low clouds and a constant drizzle. Not much to see except gray mist.

“For the first few days, we will remain on the Fugro, until we can pick out a house, then refurbish it. Apparently, if someone repairs and rebuilds a house to habitability, that establishes ownership. I am so looking forward to a bedroom with a proper workspace, and a display stand for Chalky.

“Fred and Frieda have decided to adopt three kids from Pensacola. Julie, a pegasus girl; Elaine, a griffon girl, and Aaron, the youngest earth pony boy. All three are having the most trouble adjusting to the new situation, and they trust Fred and Frieda. I’ll do all I can as well.

“Foster’s looking forward to getting started on his real mission, that being to set up the trade liaison office between the WSU and Queen Marie’s domain. Apparently, Queen Marie can lock in on him through his emerald rank badge, and use him as a focus to teleport herself and one other to him. Going home is much easier.

“Frack and Bernie have definitely become an item. I wish them both as much joy as God allows. Fran and Michie have bonded completely, Michie referring to Fran as her aunt. Capo is keeping an eye on both. With him on watch, no one would dare try anything with Michie.

“Let me stop running my mouth and get started helping handle lines. They sure are a lot larger than the ones we used on Deliverance! Frick out.”

Friday, 5 Aug 2016 0900

Fred, Frieda, Frack, Bernie, Fran, Michie and Capo approached a house. Three floors on a good-sized lot, from the outside it looked adequate for their needs. “Yard needs work,” Fred said, looking around as they came in the gate. “Should be able to get a patch going before cold sets in.”

“The yard is yours and Aaron’s, Paw. The house is mine, mostly,” Frieda said as she walked up to the front door, pulling the key to the lock out of her neck pouch and unlocking the door.

Inside, a single lamp was on, to signify that the house had power. “I was told that services had been restored to this area. Glad to see that’s true,” Fred said as he went in behind Frieda.

“All we really have to do is move in, clean up, and occupy the place. Once the town knows we’re here, that’s when it will truly be ours,” Fran said, looking around.

“Where’s our rooms, Aunt Fran?” Michie asked.

“Upstairs, on the top floor, Michie. Want to go see?” Fran asked.

“Yeah!” Michie squealed as she made tracks to the stairs, Capo flying after her.

Fran rolled her eyes once. “Kids…” she muttered before going after the kitten.

Frack and Bernie smiled at the Abyssinians, Frack with a wing around his mate. “Not yet ready for any of our own, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy what’s here, right?” Bernie said quietly to Frack.

“Correct, dearest one,” Frack replied before giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Shall we go up and claim a room?”

“One up on the top floor, with a small balcony. That way, we don’t have to disturb the whole house if I have night work,” Bernie said as she led the way to the stairs.

Fred and Frieda watched them go before looking around the ground floor. There was one great room, which Fred and John planned to hold services and conferences in, along with several office spaces and a full bath, along with the utility room, which held a washer, dryer and hot water heater. “This house is going to need a lot of TLC after being pretty much ignored for over a year, Maw,” Fred observed.

“If anyone can do it, we can, Paw,” Frieda replied as she led the way up to the first floor, where they found a kitchen and dining area large enough to seat twelve, a good-sized living area, and the master suite.

“Think we can make this our home, Maw?” Fred asked quietly as they looked around the master suite.

“If we can’t, we better get our heads examined, Paw,” Frieda replied, putting a wing around Fred.

Sunday, 7 August 2016, 1400 hours Maasvlakte time:

Captains Lorelei, Skinner and Perrin met in a large conference room with Ambassador Hardegan. Also present via monitor is Captain Prateek, who is aboard the Amandine in the Eastern Med. “We’re all present, Ambassador Hardegan. Will you let Her Majesty know we are assembled?” Dilip asked politely.

“Sho’ can, Captain,” Foster said, closing his eyes. His horn started glowing gold and his pendant shone brilliant green. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open as he looked at a vacant part of the room. He projected his glow, and two ponies materialized, one being a very large black unicorn mare with white horn, hooves, mane, tail and cutie mark of a human-shaped rag doll with three pins through it, and a smaller white unicorn stallion.with dark green horn and hooves, aqua and forest green striped mane and tail, and a cutie mark of three quill pens writing on a piece of parchment, also wearing a large green emerald in a gold fitting on a silver chain around his neck, as well as a black sash with three white stripes.

Once fully materialized, both unicorns shook their heads, making their manes fly about. When settled, Marie spoke. “Thank you, Ambassador Hardegan. Greetings, Gentlemen,” she said, looking about the room. “I am Marie Laveaux, Queen of Louisianne. With me is Major Henry Thibodeaux, my main diplomatic aide and replacement Ambassador to the World Seafarer’s Union. He will present to you my list of requests and demands to allow the World Seafarer’s Union access to the river systems of the former United States. Said list is not onerous, and parts are negotiable.

“I greet you all, and hope to have a long, successful trade agreement with you and yours. I must return now, but Major Thibodeaux will be able to speak in My name for all agreements. Ambassador Hardegan, you are now free from duty to me and are able to pursue your destiny, free from harassment.” She looked at everyone in the room, one at a time, finally looking at the monitor showing Captain Prateek. “Until we can meet in person, Captain,” she said politely before vanishing in a white flash.

Silence reigned for over a minute before Lorelei spoke. “Well, I was not expecting THAT…” she muttered.

“I don’t think any of us was,” Dilip said from the monitor. “Major Thibodeaux, do you have the list?”

“Ah shure do,” the Major drawled as a green glow came from his horn, opening a saddlebag on his back, and pulling out a thick folder. “First off, unless yuh want to be stiflingly formal, mah name is ‘Hank’. Formality is for final documents, not foah negotiation.” He took pages from the folder and distributed a copy to each of the beings in the room, plus a stack off to a side, where Dilip can see through a camera.

“Weren’t you workin’ for the state in Baton Rouge?” Foster asked as the others read the cover pages.

“Chief negotiator with the state worker’s union,” Hank replied.

Foster whistled. He had heard of Henry Thibodeaux, and his reputation said he drove hard deals, but absolutely fair ones. If Henry is going to be in charge, both sides will benefit.

[1]Acknowledgement of the Queen’s desire for complete control within her stated borders, to be recognized by both parties.

[2]Liaisons to be set up in both capitols for further negotiations.

[3]Louisianne will provide a river craft to open trade with the interior of North America.

[4]The WSU will provide the crew for the river craft, Louisianne will provide the commander.

[5]Louisianne will refit a small ocean-going craft to open trade with Havana.

[6]Louisianne will provide mana-fertilizer to Havana at reduced prices in exchange for produce from the cannery.

[7]The WSU will provide 5% of all healing/medical potion produced in the U.S. interior
to Louisianne in lieu of tolls.

[8]The WSU and Louisianne will cooperate in salvage of granaries, technology and other ‘plunder’ inside the continental U.S.

8a) Anything found in a designated city’s ‘city limits’ will be the sole property of the city itself.

8a1) ‘city limits’ are defined as of January 1, 2015.

8b) Salvage of granaries not claimed or within a city’s designated boundary is to be divided equally between the WSU, Louisianne, and the nearest city, if said nearest city so desires.

8c) Louisianne claims ‘right of first refusal’ on technological salvage.

8d) Magical salvage rights will be determined on a case-by-case basis, determined by use of said magical item. Who can use it better gets to keep it.

[9]All cities/colonies/communities of ponies and other sapients will be granted the right of self-determination on their course of progress, be it membership in the WSU, with Louisianne, or none of the above.

[10]The WSU is to accept any sentient not deemed to be ‘suitable’ to Louisianne, ‘unsuitable’ being defined as refusing to accept Queen Marie’s sovereignty of the lands upon which they Return.

Dilip looked up from the reading first. “Did you have a hoof in drafting these Articles, Major?” he asked.

“I did, after Her Majesty first wrote them,” Hank confirmed.

“Article One, to be accepted without discussion. Captains, any arguments?” Dilip asked the group in the room.

Doug, Lorelei and Edgar all looked at each other. “No dissent here,” Lorelei said, taking the lead.

“Article Two can wait until I get back home. Captains, search for a suitable candidate and give me some proposals to fill the role,” Dilip said with authority, which the Captains agreed to without argument.

“Article Three I feel we can accept,” Lorelei said. “Article Four, that can be a problem. I highly doubt we can find enough crew who would want to go. I’m sure we can find some volunteers, but how many? We do have our ships to look after, as well as the settlement.

“Next question here is who will be the crew?” Dilip asked. “Mister Hank, how many crew members will be required for this part of the Agreement?”

“Anywheah between eight an’ ten. Theah’s several boats available to choose from, an’ ah have the specs in my bag. No real rush fo’ that. You is going to have to drop them off, Captain. Her Majesty can only teleport one other at any one time, and reachin’ out of her territory requires help from either myself or Sheriff Hardegan,” Hank reported.

“So that’s why she appointed you Ambassador,” Edgar said. “She needed you as an anchor point for her magic.”

“Sho’ looks like it, Captain. Ah don’t mind. If ah didn’t trust her implicitly, ah would never let her use me,” Foster confessed honestly.

“Very well, then. Please communicate to Her Majesty that we may not have enough crew to spare. Now, if she would like us to train some of her… subjects…” he obviously stumbled over the term, “on how to be riverboat crew, that we can do, without any problem. Now, on to Article Five…” Dilip said.

15 August 2016 0900 hours

Captain Frick watched from the roof of the radio building as the Polar Princess, under escort from one of the harbor tugs, made her way through the Maasvlakte to her designated berth. “Once I finish this upgrade, I’m going to drop by and see them. I wonder how they’re doing after the stop in Belfast,” he said to himself as he checked out the antenna links. “Harry said he had found some good stuff in the refrigerated containers. Wouldn’t mind something different. Hope he found some whiskey in storage. Rum is tolerable, in small doses, but I miss my whiskey.”

At 1300, Captain Haugen, directions in glow, made his way to the Captain’s offices, to report in to Captains Lorelei and Skinner. Once there, he ‘shook hands’ with Lorelei, a little startled at her extreme youth, but he has examples of that on his own. After introductions and pleasantries, they got down to business.

“How did the refitting go, Van?” Lorelei asked.

“Better than I expected. Most of the accommodations were refitted to pony scale, leaving some normal-sized just in case, like with our minotaur. Door handles and such are now easier to open by hoof, and many controls are easier to operate. With proper care, the Princess can remain in service for a good long time,” Van told the captains. “One thing I’m finding popular are my refrigerated cargo containers. Belfast wanted six, divided between the camps. With a bit of cargo rearranging, that paid for all the work they did on the Princess.”

“We can use some here, for various uses. How are your crew taking to the changes?” Edgar asked.

Van took a breath to settle himself before replying. “I have six genderbent folk aboard, and they are adjusting and adapting in their own ways. I did have one crewman ask for a transfer, and I granted it, because I had a willing replacement at hand. He’s in Belfast, working with one of the groups there,” he said to the captains.

“Who left, and who did you replace him with?” Edgar asked.

“My Second Officer, Einar Einarsson. He changed into a young earth pony. A very small young earth pony. He was too small to use the control room consoles, even standing up on his back hooves. So, in order to leave with a clean conscience, he talked someone into applying for a position,” Van reported.

“Who was crazy enough to want to put in for it?” Lorelei asked.

“Renee Noir, the genderbent hippogriff that turned up in Pensacola. It turns out she is qualified up to Chief Officer, but she signed on as Third while my daughter moves up to Second. She’s a quick study, her main problem is she’s having a bit of difficulty reading English. She CAN, but it’s not easy. I’ve paired her with a helmsman who speaks French,” Van answered.

“Hope it works out,” Lorelei said as she looked through some papers Van had brought.

“It seems to be, Lorelei. I had my Chief with her in Control as we moored, quizzing her. According to him, she caught on right away, but she did admit she was going to need a lot of training to handle such a large ship in restricted waters. I do have to respect her honesty.” Van replied coolly.

The little pink unicorn looked intently at the black spotted reindeer. “How much experience does she have?” Lorelei asked.

“Nothing the size of the Princess, but she sailed up to Chief on many of the mid-size fishing boats on the north shore of Haiti for over twenty years,” Van explained.

Lorelei held up a piece of paper in her glow. “You found a container full of liquor and beer?” she asked.

Van nodded. “Oh, yes, we did. A regular assortment of whiskey, rye, gin, vodka, schnapps of several types, other liquors, wines, and beer. Coors, to be precise. Kegs of Coors,” he explained. “I already grabbed my case of akvavit.”

“Put me down for a bottle of peppermint schnapps,” Lorelei said quickly.

“You got it. Rumple Minze do you?” Van fired back.

“Works for me!” Lorelei said with a giggle.

Edgar cleared his throat. “Van, I’ve briefed you on how we do business here. We always keep one ship in port, and we do arm our ships. One task will be to figure out just how to arm the Polar Princess properly, to handle just about anything that can be thrown at ye. Let me tell ye aboot what happened in Brazil,” he said before launching into a description of the combat with the pirate vessel.

After Edgar told his tale, Van sat back and whistled. “Captain Frick told me about his encounter with the sea creature outside Havana, but your encounter makes that look like a skate under the stars,” he said.

“Got that right,” Lorelei grunted. “Fortunately, we can outfit your ship with plenty of weaponry. Obvious weaponry. Very big powerful weaponry. Smaller arms, too. How many military veterans do you have on board?”

“Nine,” Van replied quickly. “Starting with my Chief Officer, Jim Cranston. He got as high as Lieutenant Commander in the Canadian Coast Guard before joining the merchant fleet. My Chief Engineer made his way up to Chief Petty Officer in the Royal Navy, I know my Chief Steward was in the Swiss Army, the Senior Boatswain was in the Greek Army…” he trailed off as he thought. “Seaman Boudoin has hinted he’s been in some sort of military, and I know four of my engineers have been in some sort of military. Of them, I know Mark Minetti was an engineer in the U.S. Navy, while the others have seen service. They have hinted at some things they have done, but I have had no real reason to pry.”

“You’re going to need to,” Edgar said, “if only to know who can man the weapons when needed.”

“I’ll get on that later tonight,” Van promised.

“Also, something else to know,” Lorelei told the reindeer. “As ship captains, we also run both Maasvlakte and the WSU. Our pecking order is by seniority of return, which means Dilip is the leader, then myself, Edgar, and you at the end. Your presence means we can have more ships at sea maintaining the alliance. I will be pulling out in a week or so, and Dilip should be back by the middle of September.”

“What that also implies is that the senior officer present here is essentially the mayor of Maasvlakte. I will have the chore of training you and Doug Perrin in what is here, what’s going on, and other such stuff,” Edgar said. “Doug has said he is interested in being an executive aide to the Port Captain, seeing as he has no ship to command. The three of us like the idea of having someone here full time to run the place.”

“I can run a ship. I’m not so sure about running the port and town,” Van mused as he took in the news. “One thing for sure is that I won’t shirk from it. Just part of the job.”

“That’s how we look at it,” Lorelei said.

Saturday, December 17th, 2016 2200 hours

Frick, Frack, Fred, Frieda, Fran and Bernie gathered in the family room of what is now known as Cornhusker House, a bright warm fire going in the fireplace, a Christmas tree shiningly bedecked in the corner of the room, each with a drink of their choice at hand or hoof. “A year,” Frick said. “It’s been a year since the first four of us Returned there outside Oconee, Nebraska in my old king cab. Now, we have each other, a warm house, our company, and new families to look after. I said I would get us here, and thanks to our working together, we’re here.” He raised his glass of whiskey and water. “To us all, in our now home!”

“To us all!” the rest chorused, raising their drinks high before sipping.

Frack cleared his throat as he put his beer down. After a glance at Bernie, he said to everyone, “Together now, but not for long. Bernie and I were accepted to be crew on the Mississippi Voyager. Harry Bell will be going as well. I have not heard about anyone else yet,” he announced to all and sundry.

Fred was the first to break the silence. “What will you be doing?” he asked.

Frack smiled. “What else? Chief Engineer, of course! The boat will have a diesel engine as well as a wood gas extractor. They will need a mechanic of my quality to keep the lights on! I’ve been training for it since October with the crew the Queen sent over! Naturally, I would go along, just didn’t know if I was accepted or not until this morning.”

“If anyone can, you can,” Frieda agreed, sipping her beer. “You’ll be going up and down the rivers, then. Visiting old friends?”

“Friends old and new,” Bernie said. “Old for you, new to me. I would like to see who you met before you found me.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to come up with a primo radio set for you, bro, so we won’t lose touch with each other,” Frick said. “When will you be leaving?”

“Middle of January, we’ll be setting out. Date and ship hasn’t been decided yet, but we’re supposed to be in New Orleans by mid-February,” Bernie reported. “We’ll also be taking the new Ambassador over as well, a unicorn mare named Hilaire van Rijn.”

“I’ve met her. She’s a former blacksmith who’s been teaching her craft at the school. How did she get selected to be Ambassador?” Fran asked.

“That, I can answer,” Frieda said. “She’s a tough-as-nails old biddy who is fiercely loyal to the WSU and all it stands for. Her words, she’s told me once.”

“Has she met Hank Thibodeaux?” Frick asked.

Fred snorted. “They met. The shouting match was clearly audible all through the Command building, I’ve heard. Afterwards, they went to the Windmill and were spotted sharing a pitcher of beer, chatting amiably. For all I know, he suggested her for the post.”

“Has there been any word from Foster?” Fran asked. “He’s been gone since October.”

Frick shook his head. “Not since we got word he made it to Broceliande. I’ll ask Sandra on Monday if she can find out.”

“When will you start running the boards, Frick?” Fred asked.

“Sometime after the first of the year. I’m already Sandra’s sidekick most days, and I’m familiarizing myself with the folk here so I can start hosting podcasts,” Frick said before a sip of his whiskey. “Fred, you and John have got clearance to do a half-hour podcast on Christmas Eve, and Sunday podcasts after. Just ensure you have the non-denominational disclaimer at the start, and we’ve been informed the deities won’t be offended.”

“Raven’s said pretty much the same thing. I have been told we can use a Judeo-Christian format, because that’s what we’re trained in,” Fred said. “We’ll have the sermon ready by mid week.”

“You can either record it in the studio, or downstairs. Just let me know,” Frick said.

“Enough business! Let’s enjoy our time together!” Frieda squawked in tones that let everyone know she meant business. Happy business, that is!

Wednesday, January 11th, 2017 0900 hours

Everyone from Cornhusker House were gathered on the pier next to the Polar Princess, together for the last time in who-knows-how-long-it-will-be. Capo was perched on Frick’s yachting cap, something he was known to do, especially when Frick was on the air. The bird liked commenting on Chief Screwball’s words, to the listener's enjoyment. For the record, DJ WSU was nicknamed ‘Batty Lady’.

After a round of hugs by all, Frack looked at the four children. Summoning his best Gunny face, he rose up a few feet and caught them all in a staredown. “Now, all of you, Julie, Elaine, Aaron, Michie, you better not give Maw and Paw any trouble, because if you do, Aunt Bernie will come into your dreams, bring me along and I’ll let you have it! Got it?” he bellowed.

The four kids all giggled, looking up at Frack. Together, they saluted him. “Yes, Uncle Frack!” they chorused.

Capo squawked before saying, “Get a move on, bigmouth! Ship’s waiting on you!”

Maintaining his glare on the kids, Frack pointed a wing at Capo. “And teach that bird some manners!” he added.

“Don’t expect miracles, Frack. I don’t think Raven can manage that,” Fred commented as the ship’s whistle sounded. Together, Frack and Bernie took wing, to fly onto the Princess’ deck.

“If you get to Nebraska City, check on Cousin Curtis’ place!” Frick called up.

“Will do, bro! I’ll be listening for you!” Frack called back.

As the ship started moving, Frick waved some more, tears coming to his eyes. They had been together for a very long time, and now they are pursuing separate paths. “I’ll miss you, bro,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

Capo leaned over so he could look into Frick’s right eye. “Screwball got Capo now! Capo help Screwball!” he squawked.

Frack didn’t say anything, but he did think, “That’s all I need, another dumb smartass bird…”

“WHO SAYS I’M DUMB!?!” the red macaw screeched loudly, to general laughter from the Cornhusker House crowd as Frick spasmed some, as would anyone who just took a LOUD squawk directly into an ear…

Author's Note

At last. After a year, thirty-nine chapters, 174,000+ words, I got this project done. Many times I had mental stalls, other time physical ones. BUT, it is done.

This part, at least. Why do I say that? Because MM and I have been chatting, and we came up with a concept to continue the story. The WSU wants contact with the interior of the former US, and Queen Marie has an interest as well. So, why not co-operate? The question being, what's there to be found?

In a few weeks, give or take, the first chapter of Tales of the Mississippi Voyager will be released. I don't know when or how often now, but it's early yet. Hey, I've been at this for a year! Let me have a little time off, okay?

To all those who have ran the distance with me, thank you. May you enjoy the conclusion and what is yet to come. Harts Fire, I said he would show up at the end, and he did!

Until the next story, fans who are friends and friends who are fans. Time for a nap.

Chapter 1: From fishing to freezing, without even blinking.

“As you’ve heard me say, us at the WSU, we now have a base of operations. Near Rotterdam, that’s no secret. Well… as should be obvious, life is a lot more valuable now that we don’t have billions of people to get stuff done. What I’m getting at is… for those of you listening that don’t feel cut out to either rough it out in the wilds on their own, or setting up colonies of their own… We need people. Any of you feel like making the journey to the Maasvlakte, I can guarantee you a job and a place to stay. We need sailors. We need welders. Engineers. Heck, I’ve even heard we might need web designers to create a platform we can charter transportation on. I don’t think there’s a single kind of workforce we don’t need over here, and there’s plenty of empty houses begging for inhabitants. And if you think Rotterdam’s too far, I can give you a couple colonies where they absolutely need the help as well. We here at the WSU are all in on industrial revival, and that’s not the kind of thing we’ll ever be able to achieve on our own. We need you to step up, this world isn’t lost, and there’s so much we can make out of it still. Thank you for your attention, this is DJ WSU on WSU radio.”

The jury-rigged set ceased its recording with a dull crackle as a hoof tapped on the large knob at the top to shut it down. It was an ugly creation cobbled together from parts found all over the place, but whoever made it clearly knew his way around communications equipment.

“Well? Your thoughts? Sounds good doesn’t it?” A short unicorn chirped. He had mottled fur, a mix of light and dark grey that clashed sharply with the bright purple mess of a mane.

“I don’t know Frick…” Another pony, a larger earth pony with a more subdued black mane that didn’t clash quite as much with the blue tones of his fur replied. He was lounging comfortably under the wing of a red hawk griffon hen with snow white highlighted feathers that looked like spectacles around her eyes. “She said Rotterdam… that’s halfway around the globe with an entire ocean to cross.”

“He’s not wrong you know.” The hen added to her companion’s point as she brushed her talons through his mane. “I know how much you spent to buy this boat… and it’s fine if you just go for some weekend fishing but…” she rapped her other talon against the aluminum grating that made up the deck.

It was just a pontoon boat with a pair of outboard engines and a tiny cabin. Regardless of how many modifications they had made to it…

“I know, I know…” Frick raised a hoof to placate her, the unicorn stepping away from the helm where he had the radio gear set up. “I can’t take Juliana across the ocean, please, I’m not that dumb. But she can get us a long way, you know. Right, Frack?”

“Uh wha-?” a mess of a golden mane poked his head out from the roof of the cabin. “I miss sum-thin’?” The red pegasus with grey fur looking much like socks around his hooves asked groggily.

“You didn’t listen, did you?” the hen, Frieda, deadpanned.

“We doin’ what?” the pegasus asked, gliding down to their level, somehow managing to shake off any nap-induced sleepiness in a fraction of a second as he started pacing around the deck of the little pontoon boat as it bobbed in the current, moored at a narrow pier in a flat landscape filled with abandoned fields and pastures.

“We’re going to the Netherlands, lil’ bro!” the unicorn wrapped a hoof around the pegasus’ neck and made a grand gesture with the other one.

“Frick, we’ve not agreed on anything yet.” Frieda halted him in his tracks. “We don’t know anything about these folks. It could be a trap.”

“Well, if it’s a trap… they’ve been at it for a while I can tell you.” Frick grinned.

“How long have you been listening?” Fred calmly, but cautiously, asked.

“A week, give or take. It took me only a day after I got us a satellite radio from that truck stop to find the frequency they were using.”

“So you heard more than that.”

“Of course, I have.” Frick rolled his eyes. “They put out podcasts giving survivors like us the tips and tricks. Even some nifty stories about what’s happening in the world. Did you know they had a war in Mexico? Demons against oil workers and sailo-”

“Getting off track there, bud.” Frieda interrupted.

“Right uh… sorry. What I mean is… if it’s a trap then it’s awfully elaborate. Never seen a con artist do that much of an effort in the past.”

“If it’s a trap then we’re at risk of losing more than just a rusty Silverado you know?”

“It was a calculated risk!” Frick bristled.

“Frieda?” Fred nudged his griffon mate. “You know he doesn’t like talking about the Montana incident.”

“Fine…” the hen conceded. “Dropping it for now, but this ain’t settled yet. Frick? Any argument to add?”

“I might. Listen here… we don’t have to decide now, but it’s pretty clear to me we won’t get anywhere just going up and down Nebraska. There’s nobody here, and here we have a chance to find a place to settle again. Start anew. And them’s the real deal on the radio.” Frick said. “And we don’t even have to decide now.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’ve listened and come to the conclusion there’s two options for civilization in the country at the moment.” he said, the unicorn lighting up his horn to grab a map of the U.S. “Up North, there’s a Grizzly DJ or whatnot with his colony in Montana and we’re not going to freaking Montana, no ma’am,” he declared, staring at Frieda.

“And the other one?”

“We take the scenic route downriver, follow the Missouri River until it joins the Mississippi, head down to New Orleans, loop back around to Georgia, and reach a trade post of those WSU folks you just heard over the radio, and even some Navy remnants.”

“That… is a loooong way.” Frack slipped from under his brother’s hoof and commented, resuming his pacing around the deck.

“In our case it’s a good thing then, no?” Frick asserted. “Once we reach Omaha, we find a satellite phone and let Fred call them sailor folks in the Netherlands.”

“Why me?”

“You’re neutral grounds, bud.”

“Hear hear…” the earth pony drawled, eliciting a chuckle from the rest. “So? I have a chat with these guys, and we have from Omaha to Georgia to decide if we try and cross the Atlantic?”

“More like Saint Joseph to Georgia, I’ll need a short time to get the phone running. You guys down for it?” Frick enthusiastically asked.

The little boat they were calling home for the time being remained silent for a minute except for the clopping of Frack’s pacing around the deck, and the lapping of wavelets against the hulls.

“I’ll bite.” Fred finally said. “But I’ll need a serious chat with these guys.”

“And I won’t go without my husband. We’ve not been together forty years for me to decide Georgia’s too long a trip to bear.” Frieda agreed as well.

Which left only Frack, the other three turning to look at the energetic pegasus. He reared up on his hind legs, taking the time to stretch the left one before looking at them with a wide grin.

“Is that even a question? The 4-F’s, out on the river on a cross country trip. You think I’d ever miss that?”

Miss that, he didn’t, but setting off had its own spate of troubles. First of all, the location and weather. What was a bit on the swampy side in late spring is now a frozen, desolate area. The few expeditions they had done found the surrounding area, and their homes, to have been abandoned suddenly for a long time. There is ice on the river banks, but the river was not frozen over. Plus, it was a long slog back to their homes in the cold, not to mention the one trip they made to Monroe to scavenge what they could.

Their main worry is the boat. Juliana is great for fishing off of, but for prolonged stays it was lacking a few things, like protection from the elements, bedding areas, food prep and storage, privacy, and so on. So, the first chore is to find a new boat, one at least set for some more creature comforts than the old pontoon boat. Problem is, around Oconee, Nebraska, no one HAD anything much better than a pontoon boat for fishing either out on the Loup River or one of the lakes in the area. So, after much debate, scavenging, and more than a little prayer, the Fearsome Foursome (or the 4-F Society, depending on which one you ask), set off, heading downriver.

They set off shortly after sunrise, because all four of them liked to be up early. Fred and Frieda looked back as Oconee got lost in the distance, remembering the little house they had built shortly after their wedding a bit more than forty years before, paid for and lived their life together in. Fred thought about his former job as sexton to St. Isidore’s church in Columbus, the next town they were going to encounter going downriver. After a hushed conference with his wife, Fred spoke up.

“Frick, when we get to Columbus, what say we tie up near the Route Eighty-One bridge and see what we can find in town? I want to go to the church one last time, pick up a few things,” he asked.

Frick thought a moment before answering. “We’ll start looking for a place to tie up before we get to the bridge. If we don’t find a place, we’ll tie up there. I want to hit up the radio station myself, get my tool kits and come back. I managed to get this radio built with the barest of tools. I can do better with proper tools and parts,” he said.

“Where are you going to find proper parts, Frick?” Freida asked.

“Wherever I can find them, Freida. I would like to find a satphone or build a transmitter to reach this WSU. I know they’re not lying, but I want some direct give and take.”

“I thought you wanted me to do the talking, Frick,” Fred reminded the unicorn gently.

“Yeah, Fred, you do that,” Frick replied very quickly, trying to hide his flustered look by staring downstream. “I wonder what it will be like to see a bunch of ponies at once, instead of just the four of us.”

“Speaking of which, what’s taking Frack so long? There’s fields all around!” Frieda said, slightly irritated at their breakfast being delayed.

“Now, Freida, with Frack getting his foot back when he changed into a pony, he finds the freedom of movement exhilarating. He learned to fly lickety-split! Plus, it’s been cold a long time, and a lot of what was in the fields got frosted over.” Fred chided his wife gently.

“I know, I know,” Freida sighed. “The Lord gave me the wings, and I have to develop the confidence to use them. Taking off from the boat is a challenge.”

“Yeah, last time you tried you almost tipped the boat over!” Frick countered with.

“Now, now, Frick, that was uncalled for,” Fred said, reaching a hoof out to pat his wife’s feathers. “She will learn. She’s no daredevil like your brother.”

“It still happened…” Frick muttered as Frack came back, landing on the stern, his saddle sacks (two backpacks crudely stitched together to fit over his back) filled with vegetables.

“Hey, everyone! Sorry I took so long, was scouting about. Hard to find anything real decent,” Frack said as he allowed Freida to remove the sacks. “Not much to see, but there’s going to be some weather in the next couple of days.”

“Oh, what fun…” Frick muttered. “Frack, after you have breakfast, scout downriver and see if you can find us a better boat.”

“I’ll do that! Much as I like the Juliana, we can’t really live on her, especially with a storm coming. I would like to have some bulkheads between us and weather!” Frack said eagerly, prancing in place while Frieda got the sacks off him.

“Just go as far as Route Eighty-One in Columbus, Frack. Turn around there and head back. You’re going to need a nap after that much flying,” Fred told the prancing pegasus, who stopped prancing and looked up at the earth pony.

“That makes sense, Fred.” Frack told the mottled blue pony with the black mane, shaking his own golden mane, which could use a combing out. “I’ll do that.”

Once Frieda emptied the sacks, she put them back on to Frack with an admonition to be sure to find something for lunch. “Just get a line or two set, to get some fish for dinner, deal?” the pegasus asked, trying hard to keep his wings still. Trial and error had shown that only Frack and Freida could tolerate fish, and Frieda was the only one of the four who could handle any other type of meat.

“I’ll do that, Frack. Now, go find us lunch and another boat!” Frieda said, playfully slapping at Frack with a wing. Without another word Frack took off, getting out from under the awning and heading up, aimed downriver.

“I haven’t seen him look this lively since before he lost his foot as a teenager,” Frick said as Frack rapidly flew out of sight, his golden tail fading from view.

“You did a good job, looking after him since your parents got killed in that plane crash outside of Lincoln back in eighty-one,” Fred observed. “We all helped, but he flat-out idolizes you, Frick.”

“I know, Fred. You all helped, but I’ve been watching over him. He took losing them hard, and ever since I’ve worked hard to keep him on the straight and narrow, putting him through several schools, getting him a job, keeping him stable. It’s been a chore. Seeing him like this makes all we went through worth it.”

“That it does, Frick,” Freida said as she readied the fishing tackle. She is after perch today, and she knows how to get them!

That evening found the foursome in an impromptu encampment under the US81 bridge south of Columbus, two large tents, a campfire, and four sealable packing crates, each one semi-filled by each of them with goods to help on their travels, a fifth one packed with dried and stored food, water purification gear, and other sundry equipment, and a large tarp being used as a windbreak, anchored by cinder blocks. “What say you all?” Frick asked as the sun set, using his telekinesis to drag a comb through his mane. “Stay here another day and scavenge, or head on down the river and hope to find something adequate? Weather’s coming, so little bro says.”

Fred spoke up while looking at the campfire. “How about we let our scout go scouting? Give him until noon to find something and get back to us, hopefully not so far downstream that we can’t make it by the time the storm hits. If not, Frack gets back here by noon, we break camp here, tie down the Juliana as tight as we can, and take a couple of rooms at the Ramada until the storm blows itself out.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Frick said. “Tomorrow morning, you and Freida go prep the Ramada while I pack up camp and find some more stuff to anchor the boat down with. I’ll charge the batteries in the radios we got from the firehouse tonight and we’ll each take one. Hopefully, they will have the range to reach Omaha.

“I like that idea. Let’s do it,” Fred affirmed. “Oh, by the way, digging around in the church, I found something in the priest’s office I didn’t know he had. A battery-operated clock/calendar, with all the holy days programmed in. Anyone care to guess what today’s date is?”

“A lot later than late spring, for sure,” Frieda said, fluffing her feathers to warm up some more.

“Today is the twenty-third of December, two thousand fifteen. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and the day after, Christmas Day.”

“No wonder why it’s so blasted cold…” Frick muttered, wrapping a thick blanket tighter around him.

“To that end, I will hold lay services when the time arrives for it. Let’s survive first. Can’t give thanks if we’re dead from carelessness,” Fred said in serious tones.

“Agreed, Fred. Make it so,” Frick muttered, using his glow to put more wood on the fire.

Bright and early the next morning, Frack headed downriver, Frick packed away the camping gear, strapping them down tightly to the decking and the canopy. It was close to eleven when the radio came to life. “Hey, bro! Got your ears on?”

Frick picked his up with his glow. “You find something, bro?”

“Sure did! A wonderful little ship, with enough cabin and storage space for all of us plus some more! Just one little problem, though…” Frack reported.

“What’s that?”

“It’s still on its shipping trailer, in the yard of someone here in Woodcliff Lakes. Less than a hundred yards from the Platte, but howinhell will we get it in the river?”

“You got the manual for the thing?” Frick asked, running a hoof through his mane.

“Sure do, bro! I’ll bring it back with me! I figure if we leave when I get back, at the least we can hole up in a house here while the storm hits.”

Frick paused briefly. “I don’t know, bro. We may have to wait until the storm passes before getting that in the water.”

“Nonsense, Frick.” Fred said over his radio. “We can get down there, look over the situation, and if the storm is early, we can borrow some shelter for a day or two. If it’s on a trailer, I can move it.”

“I didn’t think of that…” Frick said honestly, having forgotten that Fred was the one who got the trailer unhitched from his king cab pickup and got it to the water with seeming lack of effort. “Okay, Fred, you and Freida abandon the hotel and get back to the boat. We’ll get her back into the water and hurry downstream when Frack gets back.”

“We’re on our way, with a few extra goods,” Freida chirped.

Within an hour, the crew and the Juliana were heading downstream on the Loup River, aiming for the confluence with the Platte, then, using Frack as a scout, Fred made sure the boat stayed in the deep waters while Frick read the brochure Frack had brought back.

“Whoever bought this one definitely had more money than sense,” Frick commented while Frieda tended the cookstove, frying up the perch she had caught earlier. “A Swift Trawler 47, all the way from France, sleeps eight, big main cabin, side sleeper for two more, two showers, big open galley and lounge, all yours for about half a million Euros.”

“The Good Lord works in mysterious ways, Frick. If He decides to show us bounty, who are we to question His gifts?” Fred said from the conn.

“Meaning, don’t question, just accept, right?” Frick said, folding the brochure carefully.

“You do have intelligence, Frick. You always have. Just put a little spine behind it, okay?” Frieda said as she tended the stove.

“Work in progress, Freida.”

Frieda laughed a little. “You’ve been saying that for over thirty years, Frick. You’ll manage. We trust you.”

“Thanks, Freida.”

Down the Platte they went, mostly wrapped in blankets because of the cold wind blowing in from the northwest. They kept track of their location thanks to the bridges they passed, first Colfax Street, an hour later highway 79 by North Bend, two and a half hours later US 77. By then, the sun was setting, clouds were building, and the wind was picking up. “How much farther, Frack?” Fred asked.

“Just downstream from the railroad bridge you’re about to pass under! Ready the fishing lights and shine them in front of you, then get the big lantern ready! It should be deep enough, just stay by the south bank! I’ll find a place to beach the boat!” Frack radioed back.

“Sure ‘nuff, Frack. Will do.” Fred called back calmly. While it seemed like nothing shakes Fred’s calm, Freida knows some things that will, but would never tell. Not even the brothers knew, even after a lifetime together. He then raised his voice some. “You heard him, Maw! Get the lights rigged out!”

“On my way, Paw,” Frieda said as she made her way forward, swinging out first one lantern, then the other. Both lights were bright enough to illuminate the water and attract fish. Frick got the big diver’s lantern out from its case and got ready to flick it on.

A few cautious minutes later, Frack called over the radio. “You’re coming up on me! Bear starboard! I’m flaring my wings!”

Frick scrambled forward while Fred turned gently to the right. Turning on the lantern, they quickly found Frack waving, fetlock-deep in the river, waving and pointing toward a place where they could beach the Juliana and have the river’s current help hold it in place.

Quickly and expertly, Fred beached the boat on the little shelf of mud and grass, Frack getting out of the way. Frick tossed out two small anchors astern, then got out some rope to tie the boat in place. “Maw, go check out the nearest house while we get everything battened down.” Fred said to his wife.

“On it, Paw,” she replied, splashing ashore and sprinting across the street to one of the houses still visible in the increasing gloom.

As she leaped over the low fence surrounding the yard of her target house, Freida was startled to find she was not alone. A rather large, yet thin dog came at her, baying some and not in a friendly manner. Without thinking, Freida sprang into the air, wings flapping, watching her canine opponent near, then, with a very swift maneuver, she lashed out with her hind legs at the dog. She felt the impact, heard a yelp followed by a whine, then the sound of the dog retreating. However, more barking can be heard from around the neighborhood, heading her way.

Freida reached for her radio, but discovered she had left it onboard the boat. She thought for about a second before deciding what to do. She pulled for altitude, then turned about to head back to the boat, the fishing lamps shining through the darkness and the snow flurries. “Gotta warn them about the dogs…” she thought as she flew back to the boat.

The others were busy, Fred tying down the anchor lines to whatever trees he could find, Frick unbolting the carry containers, and Frack carrying the sealed tubs to shore and a bit more. “Fellows! There’s dogs about, heading this way! I’ll head back to the house and see about getting in!” she called down.

The three stallions looked up to the hen as she hovered. “Dogs coming, Maw? Thanks for the warning. Be careful!” Fred called up.

Freida landed by the boat. “Forgot my radio,” she said before grabbing it, slinging the loop around her neck, and heading clear before taking off.

Fred said calmly, “Frick, you finish tying the boat down. I’ll deal with the dogs.”

“You do that, Fred!” Frick said as he loosened another tub, putting the nuts and bolts away before moving to tie down the boat as the wind got a bit stronger.

Fred went to the road and across it. As he vaulted the fence, assorted barks were heard, barks, growls, and some whines of at least ten dogs approaching. Calmly, Fred looked at the pack, which closed in. He stood his ground, and the pack stopped outside of hoof’s reach, looking at him. “Now, you fellas and gals, if’n you don’t plan on hurtin’ me, I’m not goin’ to hurt you. If you DO try, there’s only goin’ to be one of us walkin’ out, and it ain’t gonna be any of you. You got it?” he said, looking at each of the dogs as he spoke.

The biggest dog, what seemed to Fred to be a German Shepherd that had seen better days, let out a couple of barks. The pack turned about and headed out of the yard.

“All clear, boys. Dogs gone now.”

“And the front door is open!” Freida called from the doorway.

Fred trotted over to neck-hug his wife. “How you manage to get in?” he asked.

“Balcony overlooking the lake. They didn’t lock the glass doors,” Freida whispered in Fred’s ear as she hugged him warmly.

“Knew you were smart. Let’s help the boys unload the boat now. Weather’s getting nasty,” Fred observed after giving Freida a quick kiss on the beak.

What with the four of them moving the goods, it wasn’t but half an hour before that chore was done, all inside, doors closed against the increasing storm, and a fire built in the fireplace, around which the four huddled, Frieda cooking something hot for them while the stallions just got warm.

“Just where is this boat you found, little bro?” Frick asked as the smell of fresh hot coffee filled the room.

“Six houses down. That was the best place to moor the Juliana in the next quarter-mile or so. What was that line from that old movie, ‘any old storm in a port’?” Frack asked.

“Flower Drum Song, nineteen sixty-four,” Fred said, accepting a cup of coffee from Freida and sipping. “Thank you, Maw. That’s just what we need right now.”

Freida poured two more cups, mixing in the appropriate amounts of sugar she knew the boys liked. “Come on, boys! Your turn!” she said cheerfully, holding the cups out. Frick and Frack eagerly took and sipped from the steaming cups.

“Now would be a good time for a prayer service, to thank the Lord for getting us this far,” Fred said solemnly. “Let me get the big Bible, but services will be AFTER dinner, not before.”

“I think it is a good idea. We should give thanks that we are together, united on our mission through this strange new life,” Frieda said with all the gravity of a queen making a pronouncement.

All eyes then turned to Frick, who shrugged as he sipped the hot brew. “Let’s make it so. Fred, you’re in charge of it. I just attended church, you worked there,” he said in low tones. “If I can’t trust the sexton, who can I trust?”

“You can trust all of us, big bro!” Frack exclaimed happily. “Let’s dig into whatever Frieda’s cooking up and get a decent night’s sleep. Gonna be busy tomorrow. Cold, too.”

Frieda stirred one of the pots on the grate over the fire before sampling it. “About ten minutes. Who’s going to help me get the plates out?” she asked.

“I will, Freida!” Frack said, springing to his hooves. “Show me!”

As the griffin and pegasus went to the kitchen, Frick said quietly to Fred, “Where does he get the energy? I would say he’s keyed up about something, but it doesn’t quite feel like that to me.”

Fred just sipped his coffee. “Frick, some questions, it is better not to hunt down the answers, but to simply accept what is and go with the flow. This is one of them.”

Frick, after some thought, just nodded, his brilliant purple mane moving some. “Good enough for me.”

The next morning, after a satisfying breakfast of fresh hotcakes and coffee, the four went to check the new boat. Six houses down, it sat on its trailer, ready to be set into the water. It needed cleaning, what with it sitting outside since May and all. “Okay, problem one, how to get it in the water. Problem two, checking over the engines and batteries. Problem three, provisioning enough to get to Omaha. Problem four, fuel. Problem five, fresh water. Problem six…” Frick said before getting interrupted by his brother.

“Problem six is, how are you going to get aboard to do the checks before putting it in the water?” Frack said with a trace of smugness.

“I’m just trying to outline all the problems we’re facing before we start working on them, little brother…” Frick said harshly before getting interrupted again, this time by Fred.

“Frick, let’s get her in the water, then take it from there. Gonna need a harness.”

“Got it, Paw,” Freida said as she brought up the crude harness they had fashioned from ratchet straps and seat belts from Frick’s king cab. She got it on him, and he put the lines under tension.

“Remove the wheel chocks!” Fred grunted as he held the boat in place. Frick used his glow to get the chocks clear, then Fred slowly backed the boat into the water. Or, rather, he tried to. “Chocks back! Can’t hold it!”

Frick quickly put the chocks back in before the boat rolled more than a couple of inches. “You okay, Fred?” he asked.

“Yeah. We gotta rethink this,” Fred said as Freida came up to unbuckle Fred’s harness. It took an hour or so of skull sweat, two belaying lines, one around a tree, the other around a lamppost, and both Fred and Freida in harness to get the big boat into the water. Once the boat was afloat, Frack flew up and opened the engine cover to check the systems filling with cooling water properly. As Frick is an excellent electronic and systems technician, having been the chief engineer for KZEN radio, Frack is an excellent mechanical engineer, his prosthetic foot having proved to be little handicap in that profession. Frick then released the straps holding the boat to the trailer.

The boat floated easily in the water, a bit canted to port. “Gonna have to adjust the trim,” Frick observed while Fred and Freida got the trailer out of the water.

“Save the straps, too. We can use ‘em later.” Fred said after he got the trailer out. Frieda re-chocked the tires before getting Fred out of the harness.

“Don’t you tell me this harness don’t hurt you, Paw,” Frieda clucked as she got the harness off.

“Okay, Maw. I won’t say that. Just something to be endured, is all.”

Meanwhile, Frick was using his telekinesis to move the boat, bit by bit, alongside the pier. Frack came out of the engine compartment and replaced the cover. “I’m going to see if the engines turn over, bro!” he called out as he went to the upper control area.

“Probably deader than a doornail, little bro!”

“Could be, but let’s find out!” Frack studied the control panel for a couple of moments before deciding something. “Hey, bro! All the controls up here are in French!”

“Check the lower one! Find the lines first and toss me the bow line!”

“Right!” Frack found the lines first, neatly stowed on their reels. Casually, he tossed the forward port line to his brother, who caught it. “I think these are self-tensioning winches!”

“If so, good! Once we get power back up!” Frick said as he got the line tied down. “Let’s get the port stern line, I’ll get aboard, and we’ll inspect things.”

“Sounds good, bro. You learned French, I learned German,” Frack said as he made his way aft.

“While I learned Latin,” Fred added as he wandered up to the pier.

“That you did, Fred,” Frick commented as he tied off the stern line, enabling boarding of the boat from the stern transom. Freida just smiled to herself, hearing the stallions chat. She spoke and read all three languages, plus Spanish and a touch of Norwegian. Being the Librarian for the Columbus Library since she graduated from the University of Nebraska with her bachelor’s in Library Science, class of nineteen seventy-five.

Carefully, Frick made his way aboard. He can see where leaves and other debris had piled up, but fortunately the door to the saloon area had remained closed and intact, so the trash stayed out. Rather than open the door, he made his way up to the fly bridge. Yes, it was nicely laid out and yes, the labels up here were in French. Frick made himself comfortable and started looking at the controls, forehooves folded against his barrel, just looking at the panel, shivering a little in the cold. Frack knew not to bother his big brother when he got in that state, so he made his way to the saloon, opening the rear door. Freida stuck her beak in. “This looks done right. Three burner stove, oven, storage, but where’s the refrigerator?” she asked.

Frack pointed with a forehoof. “Over there, in the corner. Lots of space in here for the four of us, maybe a couple more. That is, if we can get it running.”

“You vented the water systems in the engines, right?” Fred asked.

“I’m sure I did, but we should check again. Next thing is to find a battery or two.” Frack commented as he led the way to the engine bay. Removing the cover, he started double-checking.

Meanwhile, on the flying bridge, Frick completed his inspection of the main panel. For the first time in a while, he began to feel optimistic. Looking back, he saw Frack with his nose in the motor. “Get clear, bro! Gonna try to start the generator!”

“Right, bro!” Frack backed out of the engine bay, and Frick hit the generator start. A low growl was heard, followed by a couple of skipping noises, and the generator caught. Frick smiled thinly at the sight of the generator starting before bringing the ship to life. Electronically, that is. One system after another, he powered up. Galley systems, lighting, entertainment, wet bar, wall plugs, nav systems and the ship’s central cyber nexus. “I can run this ship off a tablet?” Frick exclaimed while going through the computer programs.

“Think we can all do that, Frick?” Fred asked from the stairway up to the fly bridge.

“Few things we need to do first, Fred. Like finding enough tablets for everyone, spare tablets and chargers, but the first thing I’ll need to do is to learn the programs well enough to teach everyone else! Riverine ship handling, I’m convinced we can all do it with our tails plunked in the chair behind the wheel, but off a tablet? Let’s back-burner that idea until we get to Omaha or Saint Joe’s. Plus, we got to worry about fuel and fresh water…” Frick’s tirade petered out as more systems came up, returning his attention to the display screens.

“Find something interesting, Frick?” Fred asked, getting onto the fly bridge, but standing towards the back.

“I should say so, Fred. This little puppy has got more tricks than a sideshow magician! Radar, thermal, video, web access, fish finder sonar, and I don’t know what-all yet. You and the rest go explore the boat, I’m going to be here a bit, studying the controls,” Frick said, his brilliant purple glow manipulating some of the switches on the console, figuring out which did what and how. Being a radio station engineer, he’s no slouch, but the tech in this little boat was beyond anything he had worked with.

“Okay, Frick. I’ll let the others know to leave you be for a while,” Fred said before going down the stairs backwards. He thought it would be safer that way. “Don’t be too long up here, you’ll catch your death from the cold.” Frick wasn’t paying attention, watching the instrument displays, using his glow to scrape off ice and frost.

On the main deck, Fred found Freida looking about the galley, finding out the cabinet space available. “Look at this, Fred! Electric oven, three-burner top with that new-fangled ceramic induction system, and a batch of cookware for it! This ship is incredible!” she positively gushed, thrilled at what she had found.

Fred nuzzled his wife’s neck. “I’m happy for you, love. Have you looked downstairs yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. This kitchen has had me in its thrall. Now, to find stuff to cook up. I’ve missed fresh bread,” Freida admitted.

“So have we all, love. I’ll go on walkabout, you be happy up here. Frick’s in nerd heaven upstairs, looking over the controls. Seems like the Good Lord is looking out for us, yes?”

“God helps those who help themselves. His guidance got us here, now it’s up to us to use this ship properly. Rotterdam’s a long ways off,” Freida said as she opened various cabinets.

“You’ve always been sensible, love. I’ll be downstairs,” Fred said as he headed down the short flight of steps to the cabins. What with the walls on either side, he could go down the stairs forward, leaning against a bulkhead and taking slow steps.

That evening, the four were gathered in the lounge area of the yet-to-be-named boat, now properly trimmed and somewhat provisioned, but more needs to be done before setting sail. Frick sat in the pilot’s chair, turned to face into the cabin, holding a steaming cup of coffee, the remains of a pleasant hot meal on the table. Freida sat by the stove and oven, while Fred and Frack shared the sofa. “Now that our Christmas Eve services have been done, and a most wonderful dinner served and consumed, let us talk about what to do next,” Frick said to the group. “Frack, I name you Chief Engineer. What’s your take on ship’s systems? I know what the indicators say, but what do YOU say?”

Frack put his drink down, not a coffee, but a cold Vanilla Coke they found in one of the nearby houses and set in the refrigerator aboard the boat. He prefers coffee mainly in the mornings. “Well, our first priority is filling the diesel tank. Yes, it holds four hundred gallons, but we’ve barely got a tenth of a tank, maybe less. The generator day tank was full, but that’s only ten gallons or so. We’re good for another day or so running the generator, then we’re going to have to activate the fuel transfer pump and fill it up from the main tank. Drifting downstream, engines idling, we should make it to the Missouri River. I don’t think we can buck the current up to Omaha, though.” Frack said soberly. Appealing to his professionalism always works.

“Okay, then. I’ll think about what to do next. Freida, as Purser, how are our supplies?” Frick asked.

“I’m glad we have a full tank of fresh water, and whatever filtration system is aboard works fine. I have yet to find the fill port, nor have we found a good source of clean water. Filling it with filtered water is going to be a challenge. It is over a hundred gallons, and right now, the best idea is to find the fill port, set up a pot near it and melt ice before pouring it into the tank. At least we can be sure fresh snow and ice is clean,” the griffoness reported.

“How about food, linen and cabin space?” Frick asked.

“Fred and I will take the main cabin, you and Frack in the one side cabin with the twin beds. Linens we have one set for everything, but no laundry. Lots of towels, but no dryer.

“As for food, we have enough for a day or so, then we’ll have to scavenge some more. At least we got enough storage space for a decent supply of food.”

“Okay, then. Tomorrow, check the houses we have already opened and see what you can get from them before the last of the stuff goes bad. We’re gonna have to do that often.

“Fred, you’re First Mate. Any ideas on our fuel and water state?” Frick asked the big earth pony.

“Well, first thing I can do is to check some of the local boats to see if they have diesel we can siphon out, and we can look for some stowed away bottled water. We can do that tomorrow. Tonight, I want to suggest we enjoy the warmth of our new home for the next however long. Tomorrow, I would have to say we ask for our Lord’s forgiveness, and work through this most sacred of days. Survival comes before worship,” Fred said in solemn tones.

The others all nodded in agreement. “Okay, then, let us get the ship tidy and have some good sleep. I think we can all agree that since we found things neat, let’s keep it that way,” Frick declared, then paused, blinking. “Does anyone have an idea on what to name our new home?”

Fred spoke up, in a firm voice. “Deliverance. For this ship will deliver us from the barren lands to our compatriots, for only together will we be able to not just survive, but thrive.”

Frick raised his coffee mug in salute. “Deliverance, she shall be named,” he declared, Frack and Freida raising their drinks in salute as well.

“Just one more question, Frick,” Freida asked. “How will we get from the lake to the river? The bridge to the river is far too low for us to pass!” There is a connection from the lake to the Platte River, but it was not set up for anything more than a rowboat or canoe to get under the bridge, much less a boat the size of theirs.

“Simple, Freida, if I can find the tools. We blast,” Frick replied calmly.

“What if you can’t find any dynamite?” Frack asked.

“We’ll think of something. That’s not for a while yet, though. Let’s clean up, then unpack and turn in. Busy today, busier tomorrow,” Frick said, getting up to start doing dishes. The others all pitched in to clean up, then went ashore to get their belongings to put away in their new home.

Author's Note

Okay, here we go. Something new, something different. Think the 4-F gang can make it down rivers without any problems? Don't hold your breath...

Chapter 14- Vicksburg, arriving.

Two weeks of steady labor from both the crew of the Deliverance and the Memphis contingent had the Graceland area habitable again. Four houses to the south of the mansion were refitted to habitability, with power restored and running water re-established, the latter by way of damming a small stream. From the resultant pond, they pumped water up to a holding tank erected on top of the house closest to the dam, the water going through a filtration unit Frick and Frack cobbled together, removing stray bits and mud, while adding chlorine to kill germs. Not that they were harmed by germs before, but they thought it was a sensible idea. The water tower was filled at need, with someone operating the pump and filter while the filling process was in use. Not perfect, but better than nothing.

On the fourteenth of March, the colony greeted the arrival of the Tereshkovs, five diamond dogs the crew first met in Saint Louis. After the initial meet and greet, Gregory managed to get with Frick and Fred.

“To be honest, we were damn lucky to get this far,” Greg said sadly. “The boat’s too small for the five of us, and we’re getting on each other’s nerves. If this colony would have us, I think we’re going to stay here and put the boat at the disposal of the colony. Think they would go along with it?”

“Plus, you have one other thing going for you here- a rabbi you can chat with,” Fred observed.

“That is true. Anna is happy to be able to speak Yiddish and Hebrew with Moe at length. She’s better at it than I am,” Greg muttered.

“I’m sure Stella will take to you joining the colony. Five big smart diamond dogs would be an asset anywhere,” Frick said. “I’ve been putting in good words about you now for two weeks, planning on you folk to stop here for at least a week, to help out.”

“Well, we plan on staying longer than that, IF they will have us,” Greg said in quiet tones. “No more sailing.”

“You never mentioned any trouble when we talked by radio, Greg. How long has this been simmering?” Fred asked.

“We almost stopped in Cape Girardeau, but by then you had arrived here and told us what lay ahead. Even hurrying, it took us almost three weeks to get here, reprovisioning being what slowed us up a lot,” Greg admitted.

“I’ll bring this up with Stella. If you’re willing to pitch in and help, she’ll be glad to have you,” Frick said, sounding optimistic.

“That’s why we took so long leaving Saint Louis,” Greg said, hope coming into his tones. “We were one big happy family, all living together. We didn’t want to leave, but Anna talked us into moving on.”
“Well, here you are, here you remain, right?” Fred asked.

“Right!”

Ten more days went by as the Tereshkovs merged with the Memphis colony, Doctor Moe moving in with them into a house south of Graceland, next to the others, tying in to the power and water systems. They were all glad the drains worked.

The evening before they were set to leave, Stella and Frick sat down to run a final checklist of everything that was done and what needed to be done. “We’ve got the radio link working properly, steady electrics with backups installed, houses refitted to habitability, and farms started in the Graceland lots. Plowing under the glyphs should have destroyed them, or so say the pros in Rotterdam,” Stella said, putting down her pen and shaking her wing out.

“Have you decided how you’re going to join the WSU’s economic community?” Frick asked.

“Tucker Rampoe gave me the idea. He used to work for Union Pacific, and there’s a big rail maintenance yard east of here. She thinks she can get one of the track maintenance trains going, and inspect tracks, beds and bridges initially between Kansas City, Saint Louis and here. If it’s not too bad, we can expand operations south and east,” Stella told Frick. “Right now, we don’t know anything for certain. Once our first and second crops come in, I’ll allow an expedition. Until then, we have our own nest to feather first before leaving.”

“Sensible idea, Stella. Right now, my main problem is getting downriver. Next good stopping place is Vicksburg, and that’s quite a ways off by river. Hope we can find places to fuel along the way,” Frick sighed, fiddling a pencil in his glow.

“There’s the town of Helena, Arkansas. That’s about thirty miles downstream, as the crow flies. I know of it because of a casino near there I’ve been to a few times,” Stella told the pair. “After that, there’s Greenville, Mississippi. I’m just not sure if that’s a good stop or not. After that, Vicksburg.”

“One thing for sure, the farther south we go, the slower we’re going to have to take things,” Fred observed. “Not only is the river taking more loops and meanders, it’s warming. I’m sure we’re going to see critters that will put what we have encountered to shame.”

“Good point,” Frick said. “Looks like we can post someone on the fly bridge with a couple of guns, as a lookout. We’re going to have to brainstorm how you and Frack can fire a gun without becoming a contortionist or going ass over teakettle from recoil.”

“I got an idea about that,” Stella said. “It will take putting a rifle on a swivel mount, coming up with some sort of remote trigger operation, and figuring out how to aim the thing from an odd position.”

“Swivel mount? How so?” Frick asked.

“I have an idea, Frick. I saw an episode of Mythbusters where they rigged a rifle on a mount made out of an old office chair,” Fred said.

Stella shook her head in agreement, her mane tossing about some. “That’s the one I was thinking about. I can see how to mount the thing, and I have some ideas on a trigger operation, namely a knob on a spinning disc powered by an electric motor.”

“I can see it too, Stella,” Frick replied. “Won’t be easy, but life is not, especially now. Maybe we can find some tools and parts in Vicksburg. Give us time to think.”

“You don’t want to search here in Memphis?” Fred asked.

“No, I want to get moving again. Our goal is Rotterdam, and we’ve been here for about a month now. We won’t get anywhere sitting here, much as we would not mind it,” Frick said with a sigh. “With the Tereshkovs here, Memphis has enough help to get by. We leave in the morning tomorrow early. I want to avoid any more of Anna’s blintzes.”

“Lucky you…” Stella muttered.

“Captain’s log, Stardate 0/1604.03 1100 hours, Captain Frick recording. We should be coming within sight of Vicksburg soon. It’s been a week after leaving Memphis, and after bypassing Helena and an overnight stop at Greenville to scavenge and top up the fuel tanks, we’re finally at our next pit stop. We plan on taking several days here to rest, refuel, restock and refresh ourselves before heading on to Natchez and Baton Rouge.

“Wildlife is getting more abundant the farther south we go. The most disturbing thing we have found has to have been some sort of crocodile-like being that takes high-caliber ammunition or dynamite wrapped in bait to kill. Being curious is one thing, but when they bump the boat with their tails and leave a mark, that’s something else. That one we killed. Others, we leave alone. But, when we go hunting, they seem appreciative of the offal and other bits we don’t take.

“We’ve seen several storm bird flocks, manticores, and other wildlife that I would not have believed, had I not read about them in books. One thing to do in Vicksburg is to rearm ourselves. Ammo is getting low. At least it’s getting warm enough to use the fly bridge as a control room and as an observation tower. The left and right gun mounts are working, it’s just that it takes me, Freida or Fran to change the clips. One problem at a time, right?

“Time to start getting ready to moor. We can use some dry land time. Captain Frick out.”

Frick saved and sent the log as usual to the WSU. He knows Sandra puts together a ‘clip reel’ from all her correspondents and makes it into a podcast she sends four times a day, so ponies have an idea what other ponies elsewhere are doing. He tried to listen at least twice a day.

“Cornhusker Four to Cornhusker Base!”

Frick picked up the radio mic. For Frack to use the Cornhusker call sign meant he does have something to say. “Cornhusker Base. Go ahead, Four.”

“Two pieces of news, Base. One, I can confirm the presence of the oil tankage complex up the Yazoo from Vicksburg. Go upriver and take the right-hoof fork. The river will curve to the left, and there it is. But wait, there’s more!”

“What’s not sold in any store, bro?” Frick asked.

“I’ve found some other ponies here, trying to meet us. They have news from downriver, and it’s not good. Tell Chop-in she won’t be alone any more!”

“Where can I find them?” Frick asked.

“You’re not going to like this, bro. At the Ameristar south of town. When you see the bridge, you’ll understand why it got my attention. I’m going to wait here and keep chatting with them. Put the coffee on and cool down one of my bottles, bro!”

“I think I can do that. Then I’m going to go to higher power. See you within half an hour!” Frick told his brother.

“Sounds like a plan to me! See you then! Cornhusker Four out!”

“Cornhusker One out,” Frick said before hanging the mic back up. He then used the intercom. “Who’s in the galley now?”

“It’s Freida. What you need, Frick?” came from the speaker.

“Freida, prepare for company. Frack found someone. Get a good lunch ready and put one of his VC bottles in the freezer. Going to higher speed,” Frick told the purser.

“Will do! It’ll be good to meet some new faces. Hope they like porridge.”

“Make sure there’s fresh coffee and lots of it!” Frick said as he advanced the throttles to half-speed.

“On it, Frick!”

Forty minutes later, Frick brought the Deliverance to the dock at the Ameristar Hotel and Casino in Vicksburg, Mississippi. His thoughts were in a bit of a knot, because just a little way south of the casino, hanging from the old railroad bridge, is a sign made out of old bedsheets crudely stitched together, that had the words ‘Danger! Deliverance! Stop Here! Danger!’ painted on it. The fact that the word ‘Danger!’ was painted on it twice, giving him pause, as it did to everyone else aboard. Frack was waiting at the dock, ready to handle lines. With the red and gold pegasus stood a yellow earth pony with a two-tone orange mane, and what Frick thought to be a blue bow between the earth pony’s ears resolved into being a blue breezie.

Freida and Frack quickly had the Deliverance moored and the guests came aboard, probably attracted by the smell of lunch wafting out from the open saloon doors. “Hello, Deliverance! We’re glad we got to you before you went further south,” the breezie shrilled in his high-pitched voice.

“Why do you say that, mister?” Fred asked.

“How about we settle in for lunch before the questioning, Fred?” Frick asked.

“That would be a good idea!” the breezie said, antennae nodding in agreement.

A few minutes later, after getting everyone seated, introducing Landry to Chopin, and quickly assembling another box for Landry to eat in, like the one Chopin has, the mixed group got to listening about the news from downstream. Before that, though, both Landry and Caleb thanked Freida for the first non-scratch meal they have had in a long time, then, the pair got to work.

“First off, forget about anything on the Mississippi south of the Old River Complex. The river is now flowing down the Atchafalaya River basin. The cities of Baton Rouge and New Orleans are pretty much uninhabitable,” Landry told the group before pausing for porridge.

“Plus, there’s the reason WHY the river was diverted. It was done on Marie’s orders,” Caleb added.

Fran started shivering at the mention of Marie. It was Fred who spoke first, though. “I take it you are talking about Marie Laveau?”

“You are correct, Mister Fred,” Caleb said. “She Returned shortly after everything went to hell and back, and quickly assumed leadership of this area.”

“Marie is a black unicorn with white hooves, horn, tail and mane. Space black and bone white, to be precise,” Landry added. “If you’re not from around there, or did not Return there, you get removed from her domain. At spearpoint, knifepoint, or as a corpse.”
“As a corpse, you don’t leave. You get zombied and put to work with an overseer. Overseers have a limited control over the zombies they command. Enough to get the job done,” Caleb told them before finishing his coffee and holding out the cup for a refill, which was swiftly done.

“This sounds like Memphis and Elvis all over again!” Frack exclaimed.

“Similar, but not the same, Frack,” Fran said. “Elvis just puppetized every pony to do what he wanted- feed his ego. Marie must have something else in mind.”

“She does. We don’t know it. We lived in the Baton Rouge area, while Marie tends to stay in New Orleans. We were born and raised here, so she allowed us to go back to my family’s lands. We only met Marie once, when we made our way up from Key West. After that, we have been following you by radio,” Landry told them.

“By radio? How so?” Frick asked.

Caleb took up the tale. “We were on a trip to Cuba when everything went down, and we Returned there. We met up with the WSU when they arrived, and we got a ride with other expatriates to Key West. From Miami, our group split, then we split off at Tallahassee going west. I’m glad they gave us a small radio with a solar battery charger.”

“We heard your first contact after Christmas, and when we found out you were going to head this way, we figured we should intercept you before you sailed right into trouble,” Landry added. “We’ve been following you ever since.”

“How did you two get this far north?” Freida asked.

“By canoe to the Old River fork, then by hoof the rest of the way. We were waiting in Natchez last month, but when you said you were staying in Memphis to help, we decided to move up further north. We’ve been here since the day before you pulled out from Memphis. Making that sign was easy, putting it up yesterday was not.”

“Where are you staying?” Frick asked. “Don’t tell me it’s the Ameristar.”

Landry and Caleb looked at each other, then back to Frick. “That’s where we are staying, to keep a watch on the river and the sign,” Landry shrilled.

Frick put on a disgusted look, “I asked you not to tell me that…” he grumbled.

“What have you got against Ameristars?” Caleb asked, perplexed.

“At the Kansas City Ameristar, some manticores took roost in the garage. When an RV returned in their nest, we and the Kaycee team went in and got them out. Fred got stung by one of the cubs, and we had to go back to get the venom we needed to make the antivenin. Unpleasant.” Frick described.

Frack picked up the story. “Outside of Saint Louis, the Ameristar there, that’s where the Tereshkov family of Diamond Dogs took residence. They were on one side, and a crew of ponies on the other. Each suspected the other of swiping supplies. Aaron Tereshkov was up on the roof when Freida and I did a flyby. He caught me in the right wing. THAT hurt!”

“I caught him and brought him back to the boat, where Fred managed to heal him,” Freida told the pair.

“Heal him?” Landry squeaked. “When did he learn to do that, and can Caleb learn that trick?”

“I was ‘touched by a deity’ before we got to Kansas City, because I helped a very young white buffalo calf escape from a pack of hungry dogs,” Fred explained. “For doing so, Raven judged me worthy to be his ‘emissary’ on Earth, to heal those in need, to steer ponies to the divinity that would do the most good for them, and to speak and understand any language, while in the presence of someone who can speak the language. For obvious reasons, we don’t publicize that.”

“Yes, I can understand why. The WSU knows, right?” Landry asked.

“Yes, they do. They agreed not to broadcast the information. They have a cleric, too. A genderbent hippogriff named Aleksei.” Fred told them.

“We’ve met her, but that’s about it. She gave all us expats a checkup before sending us off to Key West. Nice person, she is,” Landry said.

“Good to hear. We’ve seen pictures, and have chatted with some of the more important personnel. We’re looking forward to meeting up with them in Havana and going to Rotterdam to settle,” Frick said after some coffee.

“As good a plan as any. When are you going to call them to let them know about New Orleans?” Landry asked.

Frick glanced at the two clocks mounted over the aft saloon door, one set for local time, one for Rotterdam. “Seeing as it’s two p.m. here, it’s nine p.m. there. I move that we call them, let them know, but keep details until tomorrow morning our time, when they are more coherent. I have Dilip’s phone number and permission to call him on it, if I feel the need. Now seems to be a good time,” he said as he pulled out his phone, set it on the table, put it on speaker, and dialed Dilip’s number out of Contacts.

When he answered, the crew gave Dilip a rundown about what they had found out, followed by a suggestion they talk again tomorrow afternoon his time, with others present, for details. Captain Pradeesh agreed to that, and they hung up, Frack and Freida cleaning up from lunch.

When offered the chance to spend a night or two in some sort of comfort while the crew worked on restocking the ship, Landry and Caleb readily agreed, along with the offer of hot food and a warm bed, and for the two, companionship. Landry with Chopin and Caleb with everyone else. Caleb was very eager to chat and learn from everyone, but Fred he grew closest to. They, along with Freida riding shotgun (literally), went to the Ameristar to pick up their worldly goods, which wasn’t much, the two being good about living off what they could find.

When the three arrived back at the boat, Frick and Frack undocked the vessel and proceeded straight to the refinery to refuel. They were under a hundred gallons in the tank, but they were confident about making a find here, and they were right. That evening, Landry, Caleb and Chopin slept in the saloon, Landry and Chopin quietly chatting long into the night, each enjoying the presence of the other.

Author's Note

Yes, this chapter may be a little slow, but after the living hell that was my vacation and the annoyances I have afterwards, like a scratchy throat and trying to find an apartment, I'm happy to get ANYTHING out.

The only thing I will promise you all is that when I do post, I'll post on a Thursday. Why then? Why not? As good a day as any.

One of my issues with the story is finding ways to connect my branch to the main story without disrupting the main story line. So far, so good. May I keep it that way.

Until next time!

Chapter 29: Chick-a-BOOM! (Don't you just love it!)

As the storm roared its rage outside, Frick stayed in his cabin, doing his ‘Captain chores’, as he called them. His first call was to WSU HQ in Maasvlakte, to get the phone numbers of important contacts in Havana. He found out that the Fugro Symphony was held up in Belfast getting some work done, but should be on its way within a couple of days at most. He also discovered that the leader in Havana, Eduardo Quiros, only spoke Spanish. “Not a problem,” he told the duty officer. “Three of my crew speak fluent Spanish. I’m not one of them. Thank you for the heads-up.”

After hanging up with Maasvlakte, Frick went upstairs. As he hoped, he found Frieda there, finishing the lunch clean up, with help from Fred and Michie. “Frieda, I have a new job for you,” he said from the top of the steps.

“Oh? What now?” she asked from the galley.

“Just found out the leader of Havana, Senor Quiros, only speaks Spanish. I’m going to want you, with Fran’s help, to do the negotiating with Havana both before and during our stay there, which won’t be long. Fugro Symphony is due there within three weeks, then we can pick up our Florida friends and head to Maasvlakte,” Frick said with joy. “While you’re doing that, I’ll call our Florida friends and let them know that we will be on our way soon, and make ready to depart.”

“I’m glad you have Fran helping me. I’m not so sure about technical Spanish. She is. Get good lodgings for us while we’re there, the best possible trade for the Deliverance, and don’t mention the medicinals unless asked. We have the raw, not the finished, and they’re already labeled for the WSU,” Frieda said, outlining their goals, which has been discussed on and off since leaving Nebraska.

Frick smiled at his life-long friend. “Once I found the language barrier, I went straight for the best griffoness for the job. You,” he said, happy sparks flickering up and down his horn. “Just remember, always think the other negotiator is just as good as you are.”

“Always!” Frieda laughed. “This is for fair trade, not to slit your opponent’s throat. I know what to do and what you want. I’ll do my best to get it!”

“You mean we, right?” Fran said from the saloon table.

“Yes, we. Our trip is almost over. I’ll be glad when it is,” Frieda said before looking at her husband. “No suggesting relaxing sea cruises after this one!”

Fred held up a hoof. “Hey, I want to get back to feeling real dirt under my hooves. Living by the sea, okay. Working for a sea-going company, okay. Me going to sea again after this, not okay!” he said emphatically.

“I trained you well, husband of mine,” Frieda said, going to hug Fred, who returned the hug with as much passion and fervor as when they were newlyweds.

“That you did, wife of mine.”

While Frieda, Fran and later Malala spoke with Leader Quiros, Frick was on the phone, calling their friends along the Florida coast, giving them the news about pickup, and to have all groups decide where they want to establish themselves, Havana, Belfast or the Netherlands.

The first one he talked to was Joan Tucker, at Sunken Gardens. “That’s sooner than you thought, Frick!” she exclaimed when he told her of their approximate ETA.

“Hey, I’m not perfect, I just try hard. We’re going to do the jump to Key West tomorrow. It’s pouring down here!” Frick said with a laugh.

“Same here in Saint Pete. Typical summer weather. Any other news?” Joan asked.

“Not really. Still have to call Tarpon Springs and Pensacola and let them know. Can I ask to have a case of mangoes set aside for our resident addict?” Frick asked.

“Not a problem! When we get closer to departure, I’ll see about doing a harvest of anything possible. That should ‘pay my freight’ to Rotterdam!” Joan said with a laugh.

“No doubt, Joan! Take care and keep dry!” Frick chuckled before hanging up. As he did, he heard a startled rowl from the next room, followed by a deafening CRACK and BOOM as light poured in his porthole window before going out. He covered his ears in reflex, curling up some. That’s when he noticed the room lights were out. It did take him a while to recover enough to get off his bed. By then, the lights had come back on.

Frick shakily managed to open his cabin door. In the main cabin, Frieda and Malala were sprawled across the big bed, looking dazed, Frieda’s phone between them, some squawking in Spanish coming from the speaker. Frieda managed to say something that Frick knew was Spanish, but other than that, he was lost. “Eduardo, lightning just struck here. Will call back once we check things over.” Some more squawking and the line went dead.

“Frick, are you alright? You look like you got hit by my skillet!” Frieda said, concerned.

“I think I’ll go upstairs and tell Fred to turn the volume down on the church bells. I’m sure they heard that in Omaha!” Frick replied, still dazed. Slowly, he made his way upstairs, where he found some chaos. Michie was screaming in the corner, Fred wrapped around her. Frack and Bernie were leaning against each other on the settee, apparently asleep. Foster was in the galley, leaning against the sink, obviously stunned. Fran looked like she had jumped into the pilothouse from the main cabin.

“Running level two diagnostic on ship’s electrical systems, Captain. Will advise when complete,” Fran managed to say, sounding groggy.

“Very well, Technical Officer. Carry on,” Frick told her before turning his attention to the others. He first looked toward Fred. Michie had stopped squalling and was snuggled against Fred’s furry blue chest.

“I got her, Frick. The others are stunned. Give them a few minutes,” he said from the floor of the saloon.

“Right, Fred.” Frick went to the pilothouse, quickly nipping outside and back in. It was still coming down in torrents.

“Master electrical system worked as planned. Surge suppressors reset, we have power. Scanning computer now,” Fran said while she worked.

“Stop for a second and let me get you up here properly. That can’t be comfortable,” Frick observed.

Fran lifted her hands up off the keyboard. “It’s not. Go ahead, please.” Frick enveloped her in his purple glow, and soon she was standing upright. “Much better. Thank you, Frick.”

“Thank you, Fran. You had a last-second ‘oh shit’ warning, right?” Frick asked.

“Yes. Got up here to reset the surge suppressors and restore power. I’ll check the computer, you check other systems?”

“Good idea.” Frick got to work, checking individual circuits, like navigation lights, air conditioning, and various internal power circuits. Everything checked out fine, until he got to communications. “Uh oh…” he grunted after turning on the radio, which was set on the WSU’s frequency, and heard nothing.

“Find a problem?” Fred asked, getting up off the floor. Michie was sound asleep.

“Not getting WSU’s signal. Antenna must have taken the hit. I’ll check it out after the storm passes,” Frick said, picking up the boat’s phone and attempting to dial. “No signal here, either.”

“If it is, how can you fix it?” Fred asked.

“I can try to gimcrack one, but I think the best thing is to wait until Key West. There’s bound to be a lot of maritime radio antennas there. At least our personal phones are working,” Frick explained. “How is everyone?”

“Stunned from the thunderbolt,” Fred reported. “My healing does work on me, so I recovered fast. The others will wake soon. Bernie and Frack’s senses are a bit more sensitive, especially Bernie’s hearing. I gave her a touch. She, and the others, will be okay. Michie was just completely terrified. I got her to sleep. She won’t wake for a while.”

“Good. Frieda and Malala are shaken, not stirred downstairs. You can check, if you want,” Frick told his first officer.

“I’ll do that. You see what else is screwed up,” Fred said before heading downstairs.

Frick and Fran worked for another hour, checking the boat systems. When Frack woke up, he went to check on breaker panels he knew about belowdecks, as a backup to the displays. Finding some breakers needing resetting, he did so and, once the rain stopped, checked the engines out, removing the cover and digging in. Frick climbed up to the bridge, checking first the ship controls, then the guns. Finding all working, he then did the difficult chore of getting up to check the antenna, a not-easy chore because of a vertical ladder.

Frick popped the hatch and looked. As he expected, the antenna had been hit, and the wiring looked burned coming from it. “Oh joy, oh bliss…” he muttered on seeing the damage. “The shock diverters worked, but the heat is something else entirely.” He shut the hatch and carefully climbed down to the bridge deck, then downstairs to the saloon for a Jolt.

“Is it bad?” Bernie asked when Frick sat down with his can.

“Bad enough. Antenna’s toast, and the only way to fix it is to replace it. The radio is undamaged, it’s just without the antenna, we can’t send or receive signals. No radio, no Internet until we get to Key West and replace it,” Frick explained before having a sip.

“Why in Key West?” Bernie asked. “Why not try to scrounge one up here in Naples?”

“Well, one, I don’t know where to look. Two, plenty of boats down there, so I might find a similar model. Three, I want to get this big step done and over with!” Frick emphasized before having another hit of Jolt.

“Understandable, but, with no antenna, does that not mean our GPS system is down? How can we navigate?” Bernie wondered.

“I plan on using some Nebraska windage and some natural features to help us, Bernie. The currents down here are not that strong, but are there. Also, one can drive to Key West, right?” Frick asked.

“Yes. My family did so every couple of years. It’s a beautiful drive. What about it?”

“If I alter our programmed course two degrees to the east, and we miss Key West, what will we hit?” Frick asked smugly as he finished his can of Jolt.

Bernie’s slitted gold eyes lit up in realization. “The bridge!” she called out.

“Right! We aim to the left, we’re going to run into the bridge. When we do, just turn right and follow it right to Key West!” Frick exclaimed.

Bernie thought for a moment before speaking, sipping some coffee. “For someone who doesn’t fly, you sure can navigate!” she said.

Frick bowed a little, ears reddening at the compliment. “Thank you for saying so. I’ve been studying how to navigate blue-water. Right now, I feel like it’s fourth down and twenty on the Cornhusker fifteen. Only one thing to do,” he said.

“What’s that?” Bernie asked. She knew Frick was talking football, but she never cared much for the sport, being a Tampa Bay Rowdies fan from the time he was little.

“Punt.”

“Ship’s log, date 1606.16 0300 hours, Welder Seven recording.

“I’m about to go wake everyone up before heading off to Key West. Coffee is already made, and I’ll let Frieda do any cooking. Six downstairs, Foster and Malala outside in a tent. Pack up and set out. I’m not looking forward to lookout duty, because of the pork and chicken stored there. Frieda and I did gather eggs and two more chickens last night, eggs not only for breakfast, but Havana asked for a dozen eggs to hatch out to add to their flocks. I have to say shredded chicken is tolerable. Give me a fish plank or two, for sure!

“Wish me luck. I know some of the ponies aboard wake up cranky!”

Bernie saved the log entry before heading downstairs, flipping on the lights and pulling the curtain back on Fred and Frieda’s bed. She paused a second to admire how the two were cuddled up to each other, their love obvious to her, at least. “Fred, Frieda, it’s three o’clock. Coffee’s on!” she said in a squeaky whisper.

Frieda’s head snapped up, followed by Fred’s. “Thanks, Bernie. We’re up,” Frieda said.

“Good. I’ll get Frick and Frack. We’re leaving Fran and Michie to sleep in. Best way to keep Michie out from underfoot,” Bernie said quietly before going to Frick’s door and opening it.

“We’re up, too. My alarm went off ten minutes ago,” Frack said from the depths of the darkness.

“Oh? Where’s your brother?” Bernie said with a bit of snark.

“Behind you, coming out of the bathroom,” Frick said. Bernie almost hit the ceiling with an eep before landing on her hooves.

“And I thought I was quiet!” Bernie whispered.

“Looks like my sound-muffling spell worked. Go out and get Foster and Malala. I’ll head upstairs now,” Frick said quietly, going for the steps up. Bernie could only shrug and follow, heading up and out to the tent on the shore.

Just as she reached for the tent flap, a gold light shone from inside. “Foster?” she asked.

“No, the man in the moon. Who else would it be?” Foster said with a bit of a grump, followed by a yawn. “Time to wake up, Malala.”

Another yawn was heard before the zebra spoke. “So soon?”

“You can nap while we’re underway. Hope to reach Key West by noon,” Foster replied. Bernie just slipped away quietly, going to the pilothouse.

An hour later, after Frick relieved Bernie in the pilothouse, she collected her breakfast omelet and coffee from Frieda before going to the bridge. There was enough light for her to eat without trouble, and seeing the bay around her was also no trouble. The engines started, lines were cast off, and the Deliverance carefully backed up from the pier, turned about, and headed out, Bernie calling out which way to turn, as a backup to the radar image.

Once safely away from shore, Frick turned the boat, aiming just east of due south and slowly brought the twin Cummins diesels to full power. With a joyful noise, the boat leaped forward, settling some by the stern as it accelerated through the clear blue water. It being light enough now to see easily, Bernie kicked back and enjoyed the scenery. She may have been raised in Florida, but she wasn’t much for boating. Frack soon came up and sat beside her on the driver’s bench, putting a wing around her and also admiring the sight. After a while, they went to Frick’s cabin, where he converted the single beds into a double, and the two spent the morning napping together, happy to be with each other and on their way at last.

A little after eleven, Fred, who was on watch, noticed something on the radar returns, something fuzzy at extreme range. “Frick, I think we’re coming up on land,” he told his captain.

Said captain looked at the clock and nodded. “Right about when I expected. Frack, Frieda, ready for some aerial recon?” he asked two of his three fliers. Asking Bernie to go out around noon near the first day of summer down by the Tropic of Cancer he thought was a little much.

Frack was prepared, radio and phone on his harness. “Ready, Frieda?” he asked.

Frieda grabbed a radio from the charger rack. “You go east, I go west, together we’ll find the cuckoo’s nest!” she laughed, putting its strap around her neck.

“Let’s do it!” Frack shouted as he headed out and took off from the after deck, Frieda a minute behind.

As she pulled for altitude, Frieda noticed something about the water they were nearing. It took her a little time to figure out just what she was seeing. “Cornhusker Three to Cornhusker Base!” she called, using her radio.

“Cornhusker Base. See something, Maw?” Fred asked.

“Looks like you’re heading for a reef. Slow down some until you can find a way through it!” Frieda warned.

“Just what we were expecting, Maw. Head on past until you find the road, and we can find out where the hell we’re at. Just how far off is Frick’s navigating? Is he the second coming of Magellan, or Wrong Way Corrigan?” Fred replied.

“I bet on Cudjoe Key while Frick says Stock Island. Loser does up dinner tomorrow!”

“You trust Frick to bake garlic bread on his own?” Fred said with a chuckle.

“I’ll be supervising! Cornhusker Three out!” Frieda laughed as she continued on course.

“Cornhusker Base clear.”

Frieda flew straight on while Frack went a little east. They flew over the reef, spotting a few small islets, heading on towards the keys. “Three, is that an airfield ahead?” Frack called.

“Looks like it. Big one, too. I know the main Key West Airport is on the south side of the island, and it’s only one runway, not three!” Frieda said back.

“That has to be Boca Chica Key, then. How did Frick learn to navigate so damn good?” Frack wondered.

“That means he won the bet. Cudjoe Key is a few miles farther east. I’ll have to scavenge for pasta and tomato sauce tomorrow, and garlic spread,” Frieda said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Why wait? Let’s check out Key West while we’re out and up. See if we can find a good place to moor,” Frack suggested.

“Sounds good to me! Turning right!” Frieda replied. “Frick, have you decided where you want to moor?”

“At the Naval Air Station, which is located on Dredgers Key, which is on the north side of Key West. There’s a marina there, as well as the Navy Exchange. Easiest place to raid for supplies,” Frick told her.

“Okay, Frick. I’ve got the smoke floats, so once we find the place, we’ll drop a trail of bread crumbs for you!”

“That’s the plan, Frieda! Cornhusker Base out!” Frick replied.

“Let’s go, Frack! Let’s find this place!” Frieda sent.

“Right behind you! Lead on!”

Within two hours, the Deliverance was securely moored at Sigsbee Marina, the fueling station set up, and a scavenging expedition led to the Navy Exchange, said expedition consisting of Fran, Foster, Michie and Malala, Foster pulling the wagon. As soon as they got to the front door of the Exchange, they saw that they were not the first ones there. “Looks lakh someone wanted in bad,” Foster commented at the wreckage of the door, which was bent and twisted some.

“Someone with more strength than sense,” Malala observed as Fran helped Foster unhitch.

“She only looks mean. She’s lonely here. Only one other,” Michie said as she looked at the debris.

“She? Who is she, Michie?” Fran asked as Foster used his glow to pull a shopping cart over.

“Her!” Michie squealed, pointing into the store, where a shadow moved in the gloom. Foster brought the shopping cart near, prepared to use it as a battering ram.

“Y’all come on out where we can see ya, an’ don’t try anything funny!” Foster called out.

From inside came a loud voice. “What do I look like, a comedian?” was heard as a light flared inside, outlining a shape. A large unusual shape with wings.

“And I thought the Fly Lord was bad…” Malala muttered as the shape came closer.

Author's Note

Safely in Texas. No trouble getting out here (That's a first!) Five cats for me to enjoy, when they feel like it, of course, including one itty bitty kitty who's taken a liking to me. She lets me pet her. So much better than dogs.

Next week, it's puttering around Key West, trying to find a new antenna before making the last jump, to Havana. Is Frick plain lucky, or incredibly skilled at navigating? The world may never know...