Fury of the Storm

Moments after the alien smiles at me, he begins to speak. The language is once again unintelligible, but this time I recognize the intended language as Ponish. That did not, however, help me in any way to understand what he was saying, beyond recognizing his tone as welcoming, curious, and more than a little bit down-to-business.

I tell him that I cannot understand what he’s saying. Only, the words that leave my throat are just as unintelligible as his: I only know that I spoke Zebrikaans. Confused, I try to repeat myself, but to no avail. No matter how often I try, I cannot understand my own words. Aggravation begins seeping into my confusion as I continue trying to say anything by this point. Even the alphabet comes out as an incomprehensible mess!

I hear the alien snickering, the only thing that both reminded me of his presence and of the severity of this situation. I can feel my ears burn in embarrassment at this failure to perform simple communication. But the look on his face suggests an understanding of my plight, mixed in with his amusement at my expense. What does he know that I don’t?

I won’t lie: I’m afraid of how he’ll answer that question.

Collecting himself, he starts to gesture. First, he cups a hand to one ear and begins speaking, obviously telling me to listen. Until he further gestures to not listen, which only serves to confuse me. How am I supposed to understand him without listening? He then grasps one of his threads, pulls it taut, and plucks it like a string instrument. It makes no sound at all. Yet he gestures for me to continue listening anyways, continuing to pluck the thread at regular intervals.

I don’t hear a damned thing, and as he continues strumming and smiling, I begin suspecting that he is playing some kind of a joke on me. Gods, I can already feel a headache coming on: it’s bad enough that this... thing could kill me with only a single thought! Now he’s decided to start toying with me? Again I try to listen for what the hells he’s trying to do, but he pauses to point at his ear and shake his head, indicating for me not to listen again. His amused, insufferable smile never once faded all the while.

Now I’m starting to get angry. I have half a mind to just reach for the damned sun and leave. Gods, I hate people like this! It’s enough to make my headache much worse, to the point of throbbing in tune with his strumming. I swear, if he weren’t so...

Wait. In tune?

Pausing, I pay more attention to the details of my headache. It’s far more... focused than I realized, centred in the back of my head, closer to my neck. With each throb, very much in sync to the alien’s strumming, it forks out in two directions, each reaching towards my ears, getting closer each time.

I can feel the yellow sun’s tendrils wrapping around my barrel, as if trying to brace me for something. That something happens a moment later when the throbbing reaches my ears proper.

A dull, unnatural pop reverberates from my ears, felt more than heard, ricocheting through my mind. All sound cuts off, leaving only a dull ringing that is at once both normal and unfamiliar. All the while, I feel an intense sense of vertigo crash through me, causing my vision to become blurry and my legs to go weak. Weak enough that without the sun holding me up, I would almost certainly have collapsed to the floor.

Thinking became difficult through the onslaught of familiar and unfamiliar sensation, but I had enough presence of mind to wonder what the hells he’s done to me. Only to realize, to my muted shock, that whatever just happened wasn’t inflicted upon me at all. Somehow, on a deep-seated and primal level, I knew that this was something intrinsic to my very being. All he had done was to tease it out, make me aware of it’s existence. Whatever ‘it’ was.

My faculties and control returned surprisingly quickly. The sun’s tendrils released me when it realized I could stand under my own power again, and my vision corrected as my mind cleared. I became able to hear once again, but... something was different about it, something I could not fully understand.

My understanding would come in another massive wave when the alien spoke to me again.

I reel, physically and mentally, as raw, unfamiliar sensation slams into my very being through my now altered ears, reverberating between my heart and mind. I hear his words, as unintelligible as always, through my ears. But I feel... I feel...

Now you understand. Correct?

My breath catches. That wasn’t what I was feeling at all. Once more, I speak up, demanding to know what’s going on—

What is going on?

The meaning of my own words feeds back into me through my ears, once more reverberating between heart and mind. More clear and unambiguous than I could ever have consciously intended, let alone would be capable of expressing with words.

In that moment, I understood what was going on. My own words remained unintelligible, as did his. But we were speaking more than just our native tongues now. We were speaking at a level above language itself: directly communicating the underlying meaning and intention that language was constructed to express in the very first place. Expressed in perfect, unambiguous clarity.

He and the Princes had always been speaking this way, I realized. And I had been deaf to the raw meaning the entire time. Remembering their first interaction, I realize I had misread Zabraxas’s reaction: he had always understood Anonymous, and had lashed out at him with his typical righteous anger. Dimly, deeper in my memories, I also recall the reason why I’d never spoken in my dreams, not since I was a teenager: I could never understand what I was saying. As true then as it was a few moments before now.

He repeated himself. Do you understand me now?

Acknowledgement. Already, I realize that what this manner of... ‘speaking’ has in direct, unambiguous clarity, it utterly lacks in personality, emotion, and the very concept of things like ‘turn of phrase’; it’s only the intact tonality of his unintelligible words that allows me to ascribe equine emotions to the raw intent. If machines could communicate, it may very well be just like this. I suppose I should be grateful that my internal monologue remains unchanged.

Jubilation! He further compensates for that lack of emotion with gestures, clapping his hands together in said jubilation. Glad to meet you at last. He tilts his head slightly, gesturing to me with an open hand. Who are you?

My eyes narrow. You first.

He laughs. Concession! He bends forward in a mock bow, smiling widely, acting far more carefree and juvenile than I expected a supposed ‘great evil’ to act. I’ll admit, it was... unnerving. He tells me his name: Anonymous. For the first time, his audible words were perfectly clear, the phrase ‘Anonymous’ in Ponish coming through. Along with it came the underlying meaning of his name; Anonymous: unnamed, unidentified, unknown. He further introduces himself. Commander. Sovereign. Villain. Unapologetically evil. Proud of it all. He flashes me a fresh smile. Your turn.

Strange. I’ve almost never had to explain what my own name means before: most zebras just never care enough to ask. And I doubt the old mare at the orphanage gave it much thought when she named me, either. Still, I utter it aloud. Zobachi: a prayer to the gods. Supposedly, it’s an old name from the Mountain Enclave’s language. I wouldn’t know: finding an Enclave member outside of the Alchemist Peaks is basically impossible, and I can’t fault them for staying there. I further clarify: Criminal. Prisoner. Only as much detail as necessary.

He laughs again. Nice to meet you. I’m not surprised that he reacted positively to my criminality. Is that why you always hide?

What do you want? I was in no mood for any of this.

He holds his hands up in a supplicating gesture, still smiling. Calm down. Reassurance. I just want to talk.

I just want to leave. He snorts a laugh out at my retort. Why have you not killed me yet?

His head tilts. Confusion. Why would I? You have done nothing to me. Not here. And not in reality.

Reminder. I attacked you moments ago.

Again, he laughs, waving it off. Forgiveness. Reflex. Not intentional. His eyes narrow, playful yet with an undercurrent of a threat. Should I kill you?

Negative. Fearful. The yellow sun flares up a bit, ever protective. He just laughs again.

No reason to kill you. He shrugs. Happy to help against them. The Princes. Villains should stick together.

I want to be left alone.

You do not get what you want. Not from them. Not from me.

Gods, I hate that smug smile of his.

Back on topic. I wanted to meet you. I do not like how his smile just became a knowing one. Wanted to know why you avoid them. The Princes.

Refusal to answer. Gods only knows what he’ll do with that information. I wouldn’t put it past him to blackmail me into complying with whatever insane schemes he is no doubt concocting.

Again, he laughs. Already know the reason. Want to hear you say it.

He snaps his fingers. Everything is enveloped in a flash of green light. When it fades, I find myself standing in an empty, soundless black void, the massive ship in the storm now only a memory. Alarmed, I whip my head around to see where he had gone, the yellow sun flaring in reflex.

The only feature in the void was the alien’s statue, standing a few metres directly behind where I had started. But unlike it’s visually inert counterpart in reality, this one had an aura of menacing green light radiating from it, and strange repeating purple symbols in a language I don’t recognize float idly around it. A crack on his leg, one I initially assumed was an injury of some kind when I saw the statue from afar, was profusely bleeding with green power, tendrils of fire-lightning escaping the fissure and wrapping around the statue.

And then, the alien himself stepped out from behind his own statue, his green sun rising up above and linked not only to himself, but to the statue’s crack as well.

I cannot perceive reality normally. He raps his knuckles against his own statue’s chest. How can I? But I can still perceive a version of it.

He gestures with his hand off to the side, and tendrils of his power leap out from the crack, launching towards where he had directed. There was no mistaking what they were touching: I had never seen them represented as floating veins and arteries like this before, but the power that comprised those vessels could only belong to the Princes. Their postures and movements suggested they were in a great deal of pain or discomfort. Obviously, that was thanks to their utter annihilation in this very dream, but it was likely not helped by what the tendrils of power were doing to them. For lack of a better term, they were... molesting them. And he was doing it on purpose, just to make them as uncomfortable as he could.

But near to the Princes was something else: a small yet bright star of purple light. There was no body associated with it, but I recognized what it represented almost immediately: Twilight Sparkle. I didn’t intend to say that: it just came out. The alien—Anonymous—laughs in response.

You know her?

Only by name. Do not want to know more. It wasn’t hard to piece together what he was getting at here, and I turn back towards him with a stern glare. Simple deduction. You can sense them at all times.

Confirmation. He smiles widely and gestures again, off to a different side. I didn’t need to guess what was there, but the odd tug I feel from the yellow sun confirms it before my eyes do: it’s another equine-shaped arrangement of yellow veins and arteries, lying as if asleep. Because it was. It was me. His tendrils were all over my body, too, only they had paused their fondling, opting instead to simply remain in contact.

I snort in annoyance. What is the point of showing me this?

Obvious that you are hiding. In the dream. In reality. Curious about the reason.

Repeated refusal to explain. Will not be coerced into your schemes.

His brow quirks. Even if we can help each other?

My eyes narrow. Know how your kind work. You will kill me once I cease to be useful.

His eyes narrow as well, but in amusement. You know little about me. He shrugs. Obvious stalemate. Cannot convince you. Not yet.

Not ever.

He grins. Never say never. Simple request. Hear out my offer. Decide commitment later.

I scoff. Condition of offer is obvious. You want freedom.

Partial agreement. Ultimate goal is freedom. Ancillary goals also of great value. I do not like that mischievous twinkle in his eye. Potential reciprocal benefits of ancillary goals.

You are trapped in stone. You cannot benefit me.

He just laughs again, more of an amused, imposing chuckle this time, as if mocking how little I knew. He walks towards my body in the distance, his hand dragging along his tendrils of power as he goes. Cautiously, I follow at a few metres’ distance, watching him like a hawk for any nonsense he might pull on my body.

As if I’d even be able to stop him.

Once he was at the very detailed arrangement of yellow blood vessels, he gingerly took hold of one of his connections to my real body, drumming his fingers along it as he waited for me to come closer.

You hide from the Princes here. They will recognize you in reality if they see you here. And will kill you if they catch you. Correct?

Shit. Shit, shit shit! That’s exactly what I didn’t want him to find out!

Your expression is your answer. His smile was an even blend of smug and sympathetic. Quite the predicament you are in.

My jaw works, trying to voice some kind of counter, failing each time. What can I even say?

This is my proposition. He pulls the connection in his hand off of my body, creating a small shower of sparks where the link was broken. I can protect you. Keep them from finding you here.

I swallow dry. That... that would be an immense help. And he absolutely knows it. But I know what he would want for doing this. Will not free you in exchange. I can’t. Forget my unwillingness to see this thing being free to walk Equus: there’s no way in any of the eighteen hells I could even get close to where his statue is kept.

He pulls more of his connections off of my body, chuckling again as he goes, never once looking away from me. Not requesting freedom. In the end, only a single connection was left attached to me, and he gently stroked the cord of energy before walking around to face me directly, his fingers pressed together in front of him. Requesting information.

Oh sweet merciful gods above, I have such a horrible feeling about this.

I want details of my prison. Want you to tell me what you know. He gives a small, polite nod. Those are my terms.

I eye him with extreme suspicion. If I refuse?

His smile and tone becomes fully smug. You cannot. Hiding here drains you. I can see it. You will not last long without my help.

Cornered like a rat. He’s had my number from the very start. And I don’t have any leverage to fight back with. Gods above, I wanted to scream. In fact, I very well might when I wake up.

I am in such deep, inescapable shit here. I don’t have any access to darkdream tonic, and if this keeps up, I’ll be back to the sleep-deprived catatonia I was in during the trip to Nanga again. Only this time, there won’t be an enamoured Zelac to help me: there will only be a cavalcade of highly suspicious zebras and ponies. Ponies with sorcery that can reveal what I am immediately.

He’s right. I can’t refuse his help. It would be suicide. Being indebted to something like him is bad, yes. Incalculably so. But being dead? I can’t afford that. Cinder can’t afford that.

The sigh that comes out of my nose is more defeated and embittered than it is frustrated. You will demand more. Your kind always do.

He shrugs. Admission. Will want to discuss further deals. Will start with this one for now. The smile he wore next looked legitimately conciliatory. Have never wronged partners before. No intention to start now.

Heavy doubt.

He goes back to being amused. Belief not required. Ask Twilight Sparkle about my forces. About their loyalty. Discover for yourself what I am like. He extends his free hand. Obviously intending to shake hooves with me. Agreement?

Cautiously, gingerly, my hoof extends towards his hand. My nervousness was almost palpable now. Begrudging agreement. Our hooves finally shake.

His smile is surprisingly genuine. Excellent! I expected him to make me talk now. But instead, he releases me. Looking forward to next dream. Hope you have much to share. He then bids me farewell with a small wave, and simply walks past me and back over towards his statue.

I can’t help the feeling that I’ve made the first in a series of the worst mistakes of my entire life. Nor can I help the tremble in my limbs as I reach for the yellow sun at last, it’s flame all too happy to whisk me away. And yet, as my vision fills with the usual pattern of yellow, then white, I can’t deny the relative lack of exhaustion I feel.

“Uhm, mister Zelac?” Fluttershy continued to gently nudge at the unconscious zebra. “Please wake up.”

“Sheesh,” Rainbow Dash remarks. “When he’s out, he’s really out.”

“Ah’m almost jealous of that,” Applejack adds.

Finally, the zebra begins to stir, a half-whimper and half-groan leaving him as be begins to wake.

“Oh! Very good.” She gently strokes his neck as he wakes. “Gently now, mister Zelac.”

(“mmmmm...”) The soft hum and the smile that left him was all Fluttershy needed to see to know he was okay. His eyes began to open next, peaceful and serene, drifting over towards the mares seeing to him. (“H-hello...”)

“How’s our sleeping beauty doing?” Applejack joked.

(“Nice,”) he sighed. (“Though I thought I was—”)

Instantly, the zebra went rigid and his eyes bulged in recollection and fear. Fluttershy emitted a small ‘eep’ and fell back when Zelac bolted upright from his bed in the Elements’ room.

(“Princes!”) he blurts. (“The Princes! Are they all right? Are—”) His outburst came to an abrupt end upon seeing his carer on the floor, and he let out a small gasp at the sight. Preventing him from seeing to her, however, was Rainbow flying in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, easy.”

(“I’m sorry! I...”) He swallowed dry, looking down at Fluttershy as Applejack helped her back up. (“I didn’t mean to—! A-are you okay?”)

“I’m okay,” she reassures. “It was just an accident.”

Zelac was unsatisfied with that answer, and pushed his way past Rainbow Dash to check her over and ask questions about any pain or other sensations. He could only ask so much, however, before she gently interrupted him, reassuring him that she was fine.

(“S-sorry,”) he sheepishly stated, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t be.” The two shared a little nuzzle, one that soon turned into a small hug.

Applejack hummed. “You some kinda doctor or somethin’, sugarcube?”

He tensed slightly in spite of himself, prompting Fluttershy to nuzzle his neck to calm him back down. (“I-I, uhm... K-kind of?”)

“‘Kind of?’” Applejack deadpanned, eyebrow raised and all.

(“Yes, ‘kind of’,”) he reaffirms, rubbing the back of his neck. (“It’s, er... really complicated.”)

“Well Ah figured you were one, what with all that checkin’ and those questions ya’ were asking.”

(“H-hahah. Y-yes. Uhm...”) He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the inquiries. (“Er, wh-what happened? I mean, uh, b-back there w-with the Princes?”)

“Oh, you passed out,” Rainbow answered with a small shrug.

(“No, not that. I-I mean, the Princes. What h-happened to them?”)

For a moment, nopony answered, their expressions unsure as they looked to each other for any hints on how—or if—they should tell him about what happened.

Zelac sighed. (“It has to do with their Gift, doesn’t it?”)

“Nnnnnyyesss?” Rainbow intelligently offers.

(“I thought so. I-I’m not surprised you can’t tell me anything.”) Despite his understanding, there was still a trace of hurt in his voice. (“The Gift has always been the Empire’s most well-kept secret.”)

“Yer Princes were pretty clear about keepin’ their powers secret,” Applejack admits. “Sorry, sugarcube.”

Rainbow Dash rubbed her chin for a moment, lost in thought.

“Hey Zelac,” she begins. “Are you, like, a good doctor?”

“Rainbow...” Applejack warns.

“What? I’m just saying, maybe he’ll know something we don’t!”

(“H-has this been happening for long?”) Zelac asked, automatically slipping into his medical training, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach.

“Yes,” Fluttershy answers automatically, much to Applejack’s chagrin. “We’ve been trying to figure out how to help them, but nothing’s worked so far.”

They haven’t tried darkdream though, have they? Not like he has.

Zelac’s ears lowered at the intrusive thought, and he tried his best to not react any further to it.

(“Th-they’ve got really talented honourguard doctors and alchemists helping them already, though.”) He nervously bit his lip. (“I just, I-I don’t know what I could even do.”)

Their talents are a pale shadow compared to yours. Even after your exile.

Zelac shut his eyes for a moment, suppressing the flare of anger from the tail end of that intrusive thought.

“Are you sure you can’t think of something?” Fluttershy presses in her usual gentle fashion. “Even something small could be a big help.”

Zelac switched from biting his lip to biting his hoof, sweat beading across his forehead. His position was particularly precarious; he couldn’t just tell them that he knew the cure out of hoof! Prince Zakurai might allow it, but Prince Zabraxas would prolong his sentence for even mentioning the possibility of using a cure that’s illegal in the Empire. And that’s without them asking how he knew to use darkdream! How would he even answer that kind of question, without implicating...

Zobachi.

There laid the true source of his anxiety. The hypothesis he dearly wanted to deny wholesale. It just... couldn’t be true: it was ridiculous to even consider! There’s no way that Zobachi could be a rogue Prince! And yet, he couldn’t deny the striking similarity between the nightmares they shared: especially in how he couldn’t wake the stallion up, any more than the ponies could wake the Princes. Nevermind the lie he told to cover up the nightmare. Or how exhausted he looked after said nightmares, same as the Princes. And now that he thought back to when they first discussed darkdream, he couldn’t help but notice how interested he was in how the Princes, specifically, had banned the substance. He’d only made it because the ingredients were plentiful in the area: he didn’t think that there was more to the Princes’ ban than just the Empire over-regulating things!

These weren’t disparate coincidences: they were clearly part of a pattern, one that pointed to one incredibly serious outcome. He was torn between needing more evidence to confirm or deny his hypothesis beyond a shadow of a doubt, and just admitting the now glaringly obvious truth to himself. But that’s just it: if it was true? By the Well, if he was found out, it would mean certain death for him! Or worse! Zelac was all too aware of the rumours surrounding Deepscorn Hollow: there’s no way he wouldn’t know too, especially not if he was actively criminalizing the Zhaaneph lands! He must be as—!

“Equus to Zelac,” Rainbow called out, waving a hoof in front of his tightly shut eyes. “Anypony there?”

Zelac jumped at the interruption, temporarily shelving the swirling chaos of his inner thoughts. It’s only now that he realized just how odd he must have been acting to them just now. And while Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash looked on at him with concern, Applejack was suspicious. Zelac paled slightly upon seeing her: she had to know that he knew something. Element of Honesty, indeed.

“Zelac,” Applejack began, “You know more ‘bout this than yer’ lettin’ on, don’tcha?”

There it was. The query he didn’t want to hear. Much less answer.

“Mister Zelac?” Fluttershy asked next. “I-is that true?”

He averted his eyes, his ears flattening in a mixture of fear and shame.

“Hold on, girls,” Rainbow interjected, a note of sympathy in her voice. “Yeah, he obviously knows something. But there’s gotta be a reason he’s not saying anything, right?”

“Tah be frank, Ah don’t rightly care. Ah only care that he won’t say nothin’!”

“Won’t say anything?” Rainbow retorts. “Or can’t say anything?”

Applejack’s words died in her throat. With no immediate retort, she fell silent.

“You know what I think, Zelac?” Rainbow flew over to his sight line to meet his eyes. He didn’t have the heart to avert them again. “I think you do know what’s going on, you do know how to cure the Princes, and I definitely think you want to help. But something really serious is keeping you from answering. Serious enough that you’ll get into huge trouble if you talk about it. Right?”

Yes. She was exactly right. She saw right through him, and they both knew it. His eyes fell down, morosely staring at the floor, a leaden weight settling on his thoughts. Even Fluttershy’s prompt nuzzling didn’t elicit any reaction from him.

“Please, dude,” Rainbow pleads. “A lot is riding on us right now.”

He didn’t respond. Even as the silence dragged on for several uninterrupted seconds, he never once gave a physical reaction.

“If it’s a secret, I can totally keep it. We all can. And hay, if you need any help, we’ll be there to help, just like that. But please, just tell us what’s going on.”

What should he do? What could he do? Intellectually, he knew what the right thing to do would be: aid his new friends in any capacity, even if to his detriment, and turn Zobachi in. So, why? Why did the thought of turning him in sour his stomach? Why did it feel like doing so would be a betrayal to himself, one he could never forgive himself for?

You already know why. After everything you’ve been through, how could you not?

His expression hardened. No, he didn’t know, not with any certainty. And that had to change. He was in this mess far too deep to keep his head buried in the sand anymore. Right now, he needed to know more. He needed absolute confirmation of his hypothesis before he could come to terms with what he was feeling. And intellectually, he knew this was not the first time his absolute certainty on a diagnosis had been wrong, let alone had caused tragic consequences. He’d always resolved to never repeat such a mistake. Now was the time to make good on that promise. Here, when it mattered the most.

“Land’s sake,” Applejack huffed. “This is gettin’ us nowhere—”

(“I need the three of you to understand a few things first.”)

The girls’ attention was snapped to Zelac at the unusual steadiness of his voice, nevermind the even, almost professional tone he had taken. Their surprise only rose when his head did, revealing a serious expression they never expected to see on him. A silent entreaty to take his words as seriously as he was now carrying himself, one they couldn’t help but uphold. Despite the new, starkly contrasted tone he now took, his voice was still soft as he spoke, and his words still held the kind undertone they always had.

(“I’m a doctor first, and an alchemist second.”) He paused for a moment to suck a slightly pained breath through his nose. (“One that’s lost more than one patient to a bad diagnosis. I won’t, under any circumstances, prescribe a cure to anyzebra without knowing exactly what’s wrong with them. That’s especially true of a Prince, of all zebras.”)

“But you—!” Applejack’s attempt to argue was swiftly cut off by his stern, level, and professional gaze flicking her way.

(“Please don’t argue with me, miss Applejack. It’s not up for debate.”)

“The hay it ain’t!”

“Applejack!” Fluttershy chided. “If he says he won’t, he won’t!”

Mildly surprised at the outburst, Zelac looked over at the yellow pegasus in question. Something about the look in her eye told him that she was not only sympathetic about his reasoning, but empathetic, too. Curious...

(“Are you a doctor too, miss Fluttershy?”)

“A vet,” she corrects. “But I know what that’s like. L-losing patients.”

(“I’m sorry.”) The two shared a small nuzzle before he got back on track, addressing everypony again. (“I admit, I do know a lot more than I let on. And there’s a good reason for that: the things I know are not legal to know.”)

“Say what now?” Applejack deadpans.

“Uhhhh,” Rainbow began, “What kind of ‘not legal’ are we talking here? Like, ‘drug dealer’ not legal?”

(“‘Learned from an enemy state’ not legal,”) he corrects. (“Enemies that have... very different opinions on treatment.”)

“Wait, enemy state?” Rainbow exclaimed. “What the hay does that mean?”

(“Not for me to say.”) He shakes his head. (“Prince Zakurai should tell you about them. My point is that what I know is perfectly safe and effective. But not legal to practice in the Empire.”)

“Yer joking,” Applejack groaned.

“That’s not fair!” Fluttershy exclaimed in legitimate anger.

(“No, it isn’t.”) Zelac agreed, sighing through his nose. (“But that’s Imperial law.”)

“Welllll,” Rainbow hummed, her tone and newfound grin mischievous. “Technically, we’re not in Zebrica, right?”

Zelac simply tapped his collar in response.

“Oh. Right.” Rainbow deflated, shifting to frustration.

(“You could probably convince Prince Zakurai to agree, but we all know Prince Zabraxas won’t be flexible. If I help, I’ll serve an extra year in prison for illegal alchemy practice. As a minimum.”)

“Seriously?” Rainbow exclaims. “Even if it works?”

(“Even if it works.”)

“That’s so... stupid!” she yells.

(“So now you all know.”) He lets out a slow, saddened sigh. (“You were right, Rainbow Dash. It’s not that I don’t want to help, it’s that I can’t. And honestly? I’d be fine with the penalty for illegal alchemy. But learning a state secret, just to know how to help them? I don’t even want to know what penalties would be attached to that.”)

The girls look between one another, clearly conflicted on how to proceed. The help they might need was right there in front of them, but taking it would put Zelac in serious trouble. Part of them was starting to wish they’d never pushed him for answers: maybe they’d be better off not knowing. But the enormity of their task was more than enough to convince them that they needed his help. They just weren’t sure how to get it.

“We’ll hafta talk this over with Twilight fer a bit,” Applejack finally says. “As much as Ah hate that ya ain’t helpin... Ah get it.”

(“R-right.”) Now that he’d said his piece, his doctoral mannerisms faded away, replaced by his normal skittishness. (“I... I’m sorry. Really, I am.”)

“We’ll think of something,” Fluttershy reassures him, the mare’s voice and slightly trembling frame filled with righteous anger. He was very glad that he was the beneficiary of that anger, and not it’s subject.

“Hey, thanks for telling us, dude.” Rainbow’s brief nuzzle turned into a quick hug, one he was too slow to return. “We’ll figure something out. But we’ll let you know first.”

(“Th-thanks. Er, I-I...”) Zelac was starting to shiver a bit as the reality of his predicament began to sink in.

“Hey, why don’t you take it easy for a bit, try to relax?” Rainbow suggested, picking up on his growing distress. “We’re gonna be above deck for a bit, making sure the Storm Island trip goes nice and smooth. We can make do with Zakurai doing the translating for a while, so don’t think you’re letting us down, all right?”

He sniffled. (“A-all right.”)

“Ain’t gonna be long before we get there,” Applejack notes aloud, looking over at a wall clock. “We should get goin’.”

After saying their farewells—with plenty of parting hugs and nuzzles—the girls took off, leaving Zelac alone in their room. They were right: he did need to relax, and badly. But first, he had to make sure that Zobachi was okay, too: the memory of that horrible nightmare where his nose was bleeding was still fresh in his mind, and he dreaded seeing a repeat of that. He just had to remember to watch what he said, and keep pretending that his lie about their cause was true.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the true cause was.

Feeling the release for his neck ring in advance, he left for their shared room.

For the first time since running out of darkdream tonic, I wake without a headache. Unfortunately, a huge knot of apprehension in my stomach had taken it’s place. A light groan leaves my throat as I feel around the bed, only to find Zelac was not there. Seems he slept over with those ponies, after all. Wearing himself out from all the excitement, no doubt; not unlike an excitable schoolcolt after a field trip. I’m not sure if his presence would make things better or worse for me right now.

Speaking of presences, I can barely feel the alien’s anymore. It’s there, but... restrained. Feather-light. I have to actively focus to notice it. I suppose there was some validity to that show of his, after all. Still, to think that he’s actively watching me, the Princes, and that Equestrian Princess at all times...

Shivering at the thought, thankful that the Princes don’t have that kind of power, I pull myself from bed and make my way to the bathroom. At the mirror, I notice a small trail of now-dry blood had leaked out of my left nostril. It must have been during my sleep; maybe when I learned—realized, rather—that I could speak in my dream? If that’s the case, I’m glad Zelac wasn’t here to fuss over me. Though that doesn’t forestall the worries I have over what other physical effects might befall me next, nevermind their potential to give my secret away.

Indeed, worry is my chief emotion as I make use of the shower next, trying to fully appraise what unholy mess I’ve gotten myself into this time. From rotten luck at the prison, to a surprise airship voyage, to an entire race of equine sorcerers across the ocean, and now I’m making deals with a malevolent alien in my dreams? Gods, I must be going insane. What else would explain all of this?

And yet, this little ‘deal’ I’ve struck is likely going to be the only thing that keeps me alive for at least the next week. It hasn’t escaped my notice at all how... decent I felt after waking up. Not great, but decent. It wasn’t much rest, but it was rest: more than enough to banish that damnable headache.

“You just have to talk, Zobachi,” I attempt to reassure myself under my breath. “Just tell him about this ship. That’s all he wants.” I frown. “For now.”

I don’t even want to know what he’ll try to rope me into when I’ve finished telling him what he wants to know. And he’s clearly far too smart for me to pull the wool over his eyes. I...

I need to know more about him. If I’m going to be stuck with that alien in my dreams for the foreseeable future, then it behooves me to learn as much as I possibly can about him before I sleep again. I’ll treat this like I’m arranging a meeting or an interview with a powerful criminal leader: the more I know, the more I can protect myself. The more leverage I’ll have. The better I can predict his moves. It’s simply a matter of survival and self-preservation, nothing more.

Fortunately, there are some ponies who would know all about this creature. Unfortunately, there are some ponies who would know all about this creature.

With another heavy sigh—something I’ve been doing a lot lately, I can’t help but notice—I extricate myself from the shower and dry myself off, formulating my plan of attack. I’ll just find Zelac again, apologize a little if I must, and make it up to him by conversing with at least one of those ponies. From there, I’ll pull information on this Anonymous from them. They fought with him firsthoof, so they must know a great deal about him. So long as it’s not that Rarity I’m talking to, I should be able to learn quite a bit without too high a risk of giving away my Gift.

My Gift.

I smack myself upside the head for that thought, scowling at myself. It’s no gift; it’s a curse. Always has been. What I’d give to finally be rid of it. Cursing under my breath, I shove my old thoughts on it back into the dustbin of my teenage memories, where they may fester and rot in perpetuity once again.

I should focus, before those foolish ideas have another excuse to start emerging again.

With a small huff, I pace around the door, going over my thoughts on interacting with the ponies again. The valuable rest I’d gained was immensely helpful in that regard, already helping me to refine my plans, lies, and narratives: far better than when I had been sleep deprived. This time, however, I not only recall the lies I told Zelac in order to maintain narrative consistency: I also factor in how I’ll extract information from those ponies, too. These ponies value friendship above all else, at least if Zakurai’s little speech is to be believed, and it’s likely they’re already trying their best to befriend him. Therefore, the most obvious path to gaining information would be to falsify a friendship with them. It’s hardly the first time I’ve kept appearances up for my own benefit, even if those instances didn’t involve foreign heroes with a great deal of power, sorcerous or otherwise. And between that socialite Rarity and that apparent paragon of honesty Applejack, it may be difficult to conceal my facsimile of friendship. But then, concealing my accursed Gift is already enormously difficult, made harder with their presence. And having Zelac play translator was obviously going to limit how much I could get away with.

This would certainly prove to be a challenge, no matter how I approach this. I suppose I’ll have to see for myself if their preternatural heroic attributes translate to actual skill in detecting my deception. I’d best start with small lies to test the waters, and work my way up to the larger ones.

Exhaling through my nose, I reach for the door at last. Only to freeze mere centimetres from the handle as somezebra begins knocking on it.

“S-sir?” Ah, it’s just Zelac. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come in, please? I-I really need to see you.”

Odd. There’s a strain to his voice, and I can tell from his tone that he’s afraid of something.

“Did something happen?” I press.

“Yes,” he admits. “Please, sir?”

Steeling myself, I open the door at last. Mercifully, Zelac was alone, but I don’t think I’ve seen him in such a state of exhaustion before, nevermind with that kind of fear in his eyes. Noticing his lack of a sorcerous ring, I motion for him to come in, and immediately after I do, he rushes indoors to embrace me as tight as he can, kicking the door closed as he goes.

“A-are you doing okay?” he immediately asks.

“Surprisingly, yes. Seems my... condition is letting up at last.”

“Oh thank goodness,” he murmured. “I missed you, Zobachi. So much.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I reiterate, quite curious—and wary—about whatever set him off.

“I will. Just...” He pauses to sniffle and nuzzle deeper against my neck. “Hold me. Please.”

Evidently, whatever he saw had him quite shaken, which only makes me more nervous. Still, I see little point to denying his request, so I wrap one foreleg around his neck. The sigh he emits in response is shaky yet happy, and I can feel some of his tension melting away.

“Thank you,” he coos.

I say nothing further, allowing him a moment to decompress. Just as the silence gets long enough to prompt me to speak up, however, he preempts me:

“Everything was going well until really late last night,” he opens, his voice quiet and morose. “The ponies, they all...”—he pauses to take a breath—“They all rushed to the Princes. They were in pain: lots of pain.”

Gods, I hope so. Especially Zabraxas. I grin freely at the idea, knowing he can’t see it from his position.

“I-I don’t remember very much. It was, er, t-too much for me to handle. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the ponies’ room again.” He nuzzles my neck again. “I never imagined a Prince could suffer like that. Er... wh-what do you think could be happening?”

“Who the hells knows?” I hum with thought, coming up with a decent yet truthful story. “Actually, now that I think about it, they’ve looked quite exhausted these last few days, haven’t they?”

I feel him tense. “D-do you know why?”

I shrug slightly. “No idea. But if I had to guess? I’d say that ‘great evil’ has a hoof in it.”

Letting out a light gasp, he pulls away to look up at me. “D-do you really think so?”

“I guess so, remember?” I give him a small, self-satisfied smirk. “I hardly think it’s a stretch to connect the two things. After all, this strange malaise of theirs did only start when they got close to it.”

He looks away, chewing his lip. “M-maybe I should ask the ponies about it.”

“I doubt they’d tell you,” I hum. “I’m sure the Princes forbade them to speak on the root of their issue. No doubt to maintain the illusion of their strength to their underlings.”

Zelac fixes me with a frown, and there was an oddly unreadable look in his eyes. “You really don’t like the Princes, do you?”

This time, I smile properly. “It’s more accurate to say that I hate them.”

“You almost sound like a Zhaaneph, sir.”

“Those idiots get a lot wrong, and I’m sure you can attest to much of that.” A single chuckle. “But on the Princes, I do tend to agree with them, yes.”

He looks away, somewhat uncomfortable with my admission. “Hate is an ugly thing, sir.”

“I live an ugly life,” I retort with a smirk. “But at least it’s always been my life.”

I see a flash of something in his eyes. Recollection? Pain? Regret? Seems those last few words touched a nerve with him. But as quickly as it came, it vanishes.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he murmurs.

“Fine by me,” I exhale, giving him a more suggestive smirk. “Politics always makes for poor bedroom conversation, after all.”

“It’s bad for most conversation,” he huffs, not receptive to me this time.

“Then let’s keep it to a minimum, shall—?”

All of a sudden, I feel the ship’s momentum begin to shift and slow, briefly putting the two of us off-balance. Oh gods, what’s happening now?

“Oh!” Zelac lights up with realization. “W-we must be at that Storm Island place!”

“I’m sorry, ‘Storm Island’?”

“Oh, uhm, th-the ponies told me we’d be there this morning.” He lets out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “I, er, p-probably should have told you that earlier.”

“The warning would have been nice, Zelac.” His ears wilt slightly at my unamused tone. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I-I only know that, er, s-some evil creature called the ‘Storm King’ used to run the place, a-and that the ponies and hippogriffs use it as their base now. Th-they’re getting more help here. Or, er, s-so I heard.”

“I wonder what the theme of this place is,” I deadpan.

ka-CLANK
ka-CLANK

The ship’s momentum comes to a complete stop, in time with hearing and feeling whatever the hells just made those noises. Some kind of docking mechanism, I assume? I can’t imagine a sky ship would have an easy time staying stable in the air, let alone at the heights it operates at. That would rather preclude using the simple ropes that sea ships did. Gods, I can’t believe that’s a distinction I have to make now.

Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out what’s going on. Emboldened by my newfound energy, I give my neck a small crack and head to the door.

“S-sir?” Zelac squeaks. “Where are you going?”

“I’m seeing what the hells is going on, what else?” I answer, looking back at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?”

He hums with worry, but is quick to follow me out of the door. He’s also quick to pick his sorcerous neck ring back up and put it on, but I have to remind him to keep at least a metre of distance from me while he has it. It hurts him to hear, but he complies all the same. In no time at all, we are back above deck.

My initial assumption about the sky ship’s docking was, as it turns out, completely correct: there was a pair of enormous metal clamps fastened to the ship’s starboard side, keeping it in place. A covered metal drawbridge was extended onto the ship as well, between the clamps. I could see ponies, zebras, and some of the avians making their way across that bridge, with Zakurai and that Twilight Sparkle pony leading the way. But I stop in my tracks when I finally see what it is they’re crossing over towards.

Towers. The largest, tallest towers I’ve ever seen in my life, risen from a water-filled caldera in the middle of the vast ocean, with most of said towers painted over in lighter colours and flying the banners of both Equestria and what I could only assume was the nation of those ‘hippogriffs’ as well. I knew they were painted over, because there were a good number of these interconnected towers that were still in their original black. And their harsh, spiky, and angular designs struck me as something a cruelly intelligent hyena would come up with as a weapon or a torture implement: not something a peace-loving gaggle of equines would conceive of.

What struck me the most, however, was how familiar the design language was. I didn’t know why it was familiar at first, until my eyes went to one of the larger towers. On it was a massive metal emblem that I instantly recognized: twin blue lightning bolts. The same design as on the airships that fled over Farasi!

This was the base of those foreigners!

And this ‘Storm King’, logically, would have to be their leader. But most pressing—and haunting—was how I distinctly remembered this exact same iconography on the alien’s enormous sky ship from that horrifying dream with the blue pony royal. I wonder...

“Zelac?” My sudden question breaks him out of his shocked staring with a small jump. “How much, precisely, did you hear about this... ‘Storm Island’? Or this ‘Storm King’ of theirs, for that matter?”

“Wha...? E-er, I... I didn’t think y-you’d be, well, i-interested.”

“Well, I am. What do you know?”

“N-nothing, really.” He rubs the back of his neck. “J-just something about Prince Zabraxas chasing that King and his forces out of Zebrica. Th-that’s it. He, er, d-didn’t elaborate when the ponies asked. Buh-b-but they did tell me that he was defeated, i-if that helps. A-and that the ponies and hippogriffs fought his forces for this island. A-and won.”

“I see,” I hum. “Thank you.”

So it is what I thought! What a strange turn of events. Clearly, that Storm King and the alien are connected somehow. I’m not sure how, exactly, and I doubt I’ll figure out the particulars until either my next dream, or a lucky communiqué with those ponies. Whichever came first.

And of course, just as I have that thought, I hear the voices of said ponies from behind me. Turning my head, I see their entire group, sans princess, trotting into view, catching sight of Zelac and greeting him. He immediately greets them back—though not without some uncharacteristic trepidation, I notice—and rattles off to them about the island. They seem fairly surprised by it as well, as if it were also their first time seeing it.

Tch. I knew I’d have to speak to them today, but I'd hoped it wouldn't be so soon. Hopefully, their little discussion won’t shift to me any time soon: the more time I had to develop my strategies for our interactions, the better.

Turning back to the island’s sights, I let the displays serve as an idle distraction while I develop said strategies. Beyond just the towers, there was a large quantity of winged ponies and those hippogriffs flying all around, each clad in armour and carrying weapons. Befitting of a forward operating base. There were a good number of sky ships docked on these towers as well, I noticed. Their designs were unfamiliar to me, but the banners they were flying suggested they were the product of hippogriff design. Curious. I wonder if any of them will play escort to this ship? If I were in charge of guarding a great evil possessing the Gift, I would certainly want such an escort. As a start.

I exhale through my nose at the thought of that Anonymous. If nothing else, this sight gave me a great deal of information to placate him with over the coming days, so long as I was smart about how I divulged it.

“Captain Sky Walker, commander of Her Majesty’s air forces,” the large, well-decorated hippogriff introduced to Zakurai, shaking his hoof. “It is good to meet you, your majesty.”

“Likewise,” he replies with a genuine smile.

“And you as well, Princess Twilight,” the white-coated and light blue-maned captain says to the smiling royal in question. “I take it you wish to get things underway as soon as possible?”

“Indeed we do,” Zakurai answers. “The situation, unfortunately, has deteriorated, and we don’t have the luxury of time.”

The captain’s features fell at his words, even moreso as the two explained the state of Anonymous’s statue and his preying on the Princes in their dreams.

“That bastard put my home to the torch, forced us to hide under the water,” Captain Walker glowered. “It infuriates me to know that his violence continues, even after being locked in stone.”

“He’ll be locked in more than stone by the time we’re through,” Zakurai offers. “I assure you, he will not stop us from carrying out our duty.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, your majesty. My ships will be ready in but a moment. Have your forces resupply however they’ll need, and I’ll send word once we’re ready.”

“Thank you, captain.”

Captain Walker took off immediately, as did his guards, leaving the crew and guards to resupply in just the way he had suggested. Among the list of things they picked up was something altogether new to both species of royalty: a metallic box with lights, knobs, and buttons on it, described by the tower’s suppliers as a ‘radio’. Twilight had only heard of these devices before, but it was entirely new to Zakurai, who was quick to press one of the island’s soldiers for more details. To their surprise, it was a completely non-magical means of speaking over long distances, and used only electricity to operate. The storm beasts had apparently invented the device, but their inner workings were so complex that nopony and nogriff had been able to successfully reverse-engineer the device yet: the radios they had at the island, and from salvaged Storm Remnant vessels, were all they had, but were at least plentiful enough to be standard issue on all hippogriff airships at the island.

Indeed, Zakurai was beyond impressed with the functionality when, upon testing it for himself, he was greeted by Captain Walker’s voice on the other end, announcing his readiness to them from his own vessel.

“The wonders never truly cease on this side of the world, do they?” Zakurai laughs to himself.

“I-I’ve heard of these things before,” Twilight admits, quite impressed herself. “But seeing one in pony is... really something else.”

“They’re even better for tracking down the Remnants,” came an all too familiar voice for Twilight and her friends. “They love to use them to coordinate their ships in the storms.”

Both heads whipped around to the smooth and commanding female voice that had just spoken up. It’s source did not keep them in suspense for long. Walking out from a shadowed hallway was the mare Twilight was equal parts happy and afraid to see again.

Tempest Shadow.

She retained her pseudonym, despite everything, only using her real name in private, trusted company. And she remained clad in the armour the Storm King had issued her, but with the colour scheme and iconography on the flank plates changed to reflect her allegiance to Equestria, bearing a weathered golden look that was worn in enough places to reveal the black metal underneath. All that, overlaid atop the same black, weatherproof bodysuit she wore over her coat. Only, she had a new addition to her ensemble as well: a dark grey scarf around her neck, as if the opposing image of the light blue scarf worn by Zakurai.

“Is that so?” said Prince replies. “Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that the forces of evil are being handled so effectively, miss...?”

“Tempest. Tempest Shadow,” she curtly introduces to the zebra, nodding to Twilight next. “Twilight.”

“It’s good to see you again,” she replies, her smile small yet genuine.

“So.” There was no mistaking the sad untertone in Tempest’s voice. “It’s finally happening?”

Twilight’s ears fell. “It... yes. It is.”

A small, saddened exhale followed from Tempest, along with a brief closing of her eyes. “I see.” A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “I want to see him again. One last time.”

Twilight didn’t have the heart to refuse her. “Of course,” she assures with a small nod.

“Am I... missing something here?” Zakurai asks. “I gather that this ‘him’ is Anonymous. Do you know him, miss Tempest?”

“Yes,” she replied, starting on her walk towards their airship. “Very well.”

Zakurai flashes Twilight a concerned look. She replies with an apologetic look of her own, silently asking him to understand as the two follow after the mare in question.

“I sssssee no reassssson to be more lenient with you, insssssect,” came Strife’s threatening voice from the console’s speaker.

“Whoa-whoa-w-wait a minute, boss!” the mercenary pleaded. “I-it wasn’t our fault! Those stupid ponies, they—!”

“If they were sssssoo ssssstupid, you would have no isssssue disssssposssssing of them. I hired you, becaussssse you were meant to be the bessssst. Yet you have done nothing but disssssappoint me. And you know the penalty for disssssappointing me.”

“No! Nooo-nononono wait! Wait wait wait—!”

The mercenary’s voice gave way to screams as he was summarily punished, his voice fading out as he fell. Strife had no doubt employed the chute to drop them into the ocean, and into certain death.

“Let thisssss be your reminder to perform the dutiesssss I have paid you all for!” Strife barked. “Dessssstroy the Equessssstrian fleets! Now!”

The sounds of mercenaries hastily and fearfully agreeing dominated the soundscape, as did the sounds of their footfalls clearing out of Strife’s meeting chamber. The chamber fell silent, and Cid only paid attention to the audio feed for a few more moments before reducing the volume and moving to another speaker, turning it’s volume up and switching to a different audio feed.

Things had been... difficult since the loss of his master, to put things mildly. Cid and the other named beasts had not anticipated the swift reprisal from both the Equestrians and the hippogriffs, and it was a shock to all when the island fell to them, forcing them to retreat across the ocean, far to the east. The aptly renamed Storm Remnant forces had little choice but to retreat to the raging and aptly named Eternal Storm—their former hiding place before the Storm King’s rise—forced to live aboard their warships and only occasionally setting down onto the rocky, windswept isles within the Storm for maintenance and repair.

Worst of all, the adversity of the sudden eviction from the island had brought out actual leadership qualities in Strife. Had he only ruled with an iron fist over the beasts, Cid would have had little issue continuing to manipulate him. Unfortunately, he made the pragmatic decision to collaborate with mercenaries, pirates, and marauder forces from across the seaboard, giving them access to airship technology and good weapons in exchange for their loyalty and promises of plunder. Those groups did not cleave to Cid’s subtle manipulations, often running roughshod over the plans he had laid; they were loyal to Strife, and only Strife, and Cid had little recourse for correcting that.

While these new forces were undeniably effective, they were almost all comprised of anthropomorphic creatures, and near-universally fit the criteria of what his master oddly referred to as ‘furries’. Cid himself had little issue with their species, but he knew his master’s boiling hatred for their kind, as strange as it may be, would not suffer their presence upon his return. As it stood though, their numbers had recently begun to exceed those of the beasts, so arranging for their removal was, unfortunately, not an option: not without the kind of unacceptable losses that would put the entire force into grave jeopardy. That was not even accounting for the hippogriff-developed warships that patrolled the skies with Equestrian aid aboard—the very subject of Strife’s discussion from before—nor the turncoat Tempest Shadow that routinely led skirmishes into the Eternal Storm, bringing down great numbers of Remnant ships with disturbing efficiency.

Things were not going well, to put it mildly. Far from the standard that his master had set for him, to say nothing of his own standards. But Cid had no time to wallow in shame: all he could do was continue his work, and strive to do better wherever and whenever he could.

Interrupting his thoughts, however, was the distant, panicked shouting of Wedge from the corridors behind him, calling for Cid’s attention. Odd: Wedge usually never panics like this. Lowering the volume of his speakers, he stands from his seat and turns around, waiting for Wedge to arrive at the bridge and giving him his undivided attention.

When Wedge finally arrives, panting and sweating, his words send a chill through Cid.

Their master’s body had been moved from Equestria.

Cid immediately calmed the beast down and demanded to know everything, and Wedge was more than forthcoming with the details, with many nearby loyal beasts pausing all their work to listen in. The airship of the former pirate Celaeno had arrived in Equestria, carrying zebras of all things. They made contact with the ponies, and had taken the statue of their master on board, leaving the same way they had come.

The significance of the zebras being involved was not lost on Cid: he knew all too well, as his master did, that their Four Princes possessed the same powers his master did. The implications of that were simple to infer: not only did they likely possess a means to contain cyphers, as they no doubt informed the Equestrians, but there was every likelihood that one or more of those very Princes was aboard that ship, personally involved in the transportation of their master’s statue. Combined with the knowledge that the Equestrian bearers of the Elements of Harmony were reported to be aboard as well? It painted a bleak picture.

But one thing was for certain: they needed to free their master. And they needed to free him now.

Cid immediately got to work, ordering the helmsman of the overseer airship to plot a course for their master’s prison ship at full speed before returning to his communications console, placing as many calls as he could. Creating a false narrative about a royal treasure barge inbound for Zebrica, and relaying it to as many suggestible ears as he could; he knew the anthropomorphic creatures would never be able to resist such a tempting target. All the while, Wedge placed a call to his distant compatriot, Biggs, explaining the situation to him and enlisting his help. Every other loyal beast aboard the overseer airship worked with a newfound zeal, completely committed to the goal now before them.

It did not matter how many renegade or disloyal creatures were lost in the battle; if anything, that was a tertiary benefit. The only thing that mattered was the freedom of their master, now, before he would be forever lost to them.