Chapter Eighteen - Professional Discourtesy

We broke out the cutter for the salvage operation the next morning before dawn. Bibliophile could carry more crew and cargo than Bookmark, but had less range. That was fine, because we were only going to use her to carry us down to where the Stormguard battleships lay twisted and scattered across the flatland above the canyon's rim.

Ket loaded up parachutes, a medical kit, and emergency supplies like we were going to try to cross the South Lunar Sea to Zebrica. Third Officers are like that—good ones, anyway. I also had her stow the hundredweight of bronze and colored glass ingots that had been agreed upon for the crystal trade, along with a beautiful large chunk of lapis.

In addition to myself, the salvage crew consisted of Ao, Ket (in her zebra disguise, Zashira), both Spike and Ensign Sherbet without disguises, and a somewhat reluctant Ralf. This officer-heavy selection had little to do with practicality, and everything to do with showing the elitist jackals what they could expect from the Twilight Folk in future.

Rainbow Dash wanted to come along as well.

"I'd feel safer with you overhead, scouting for any trouble."

Dash snorted. "The Storm King ran off, the dogs are cowed, and just look at this place!" She swept a wing around, indicating the rough, empty terrain. "Like, what sort of trouble do you think is gonna sneak up on us? Sand fleas?"

"I'm paranoid, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "I noticed."

"I noticed you're wearing your cutlass."

Dash shrugged. "Can't be too careful."

"That's my point! You can spot trouble coming a long way off if you aren't crawling around inside some burned-out hulk, and you have a better chance of being able to do something about it than anypony else left aboard."

'Yeah… I guess so. But if you find anything really cool, grab it for me, will you?"

"Of course, Dash."

Even though almost all of the salvage party could fly, we all squeezed into Bibliophile for the trip down. The High Song[1] were watching, and they lived and breathed formality and ritual, so I was determined to give them a show.

[1] That's what Ralf assured me was the proper collective name for any group from the city. No stranger than "Townies," or "Twilight Folk," I suppose.

When we landed near the waiting group of jackals, Ao placed a little two-step ladder on the ground and Ket piped me ashore with a bosun's whistle. Ridiculous, but we'd often had to perform such formalities for groups that set great store by such things. Bibliophile was even flying my personal burgee[2] from her envelope rudder.

[2] A small triangular flag indicating I was aboard the craft—which would be blindingly obvious at a glance, even without the flag. Traditions.

Wepaten wasn't among the welcoming committee, but three highly decorated black jackals bearing golden staves topped with gems were obviously the leaders of their party. They bowed as we approached, and their dog retainers flattened themselves on the ground.

I think I hid my distaste for the prostration well enough. "Greetings! I believe you are here to assist us?"

"Indeed, Captain Blackmane," the central jackal replied. "But first, we beg your indulgence in allowing us to complete a small piece of other business." He waved a dog up and forward who was carrying a large wooden box. The dog bowed down so that the top of the box was at the perfect level to serve as a desk, and held it there while the jackal opened the top and removed some documents and writing utensils.

"My Sidi commands me to present you with this letter of marque and reprisal."

There were two copies, both signed by Atenar Sidi and with blank spaces for my own signature. The jackal placed them on the top of the box and offered me a quill.

I smiled and nodded to him, and then began to read the document. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Dumatar Rati begs your pardon Captain, but you are to sign these."

I didn't bother to look up from the pages. "I understand, Rati. I will sign them as soon as I am familiar with the terms of the agreement"

I might as well have slapped him. His lips curled up to reveal the tips of his teeth."B-but this was commanded by the Sidi himself!"

I didn't answer, but kept on reading. The terms were very favorable to the High Song, of course. But the Sidi had become so accustomed to absolute power and obedience that he (or his advisors) had gotten lazy. Though he demanded a very large tariff for any goods "acquired" within or transported across his territory, he neglected to specify who would evaluate them. He also didn't nail down several other important details.

Before Dumatar could work himself up into a frenzy of outrage on behalf of the Sidi, I finished reading and verifying that both copies were identical. "This looks fine," I said, scrawled Blackmane's signature on both, and passed one copy back to him.

The jackal captain deflated a bit, seemingly mollified, and put the copy of the letter back in the box. Then he reached down and pulled out something else. It was a small sandalwood box that he opened and held out for my inspection. In the velvet-lined interior lay a clear crystal that perfectly matched the specifications I had given Wepaten Seti the day before. I lightly brushed it with my magic. It was uncharged, but flawless.

"This is perfect, Dumatar Rati!" I levitated the Bronze, glass, and lapis out of the jolly boat, floated it over, and set it all down on the sand at his paws. "Please accept the addition of this lapis lazuli as a token of my appreciation and respect for your Sidi."

He made no comment, but waved forward a half-dozen dogs to carry the box and materials back into the tunnel. I passed the little sandalwood box to Ket. "Please stow this under Bibliophile's sternsheets, Ms. Zashira." I didn't say "carefully" because it would have been an insult to my Third Mate's professional sensibilities. Where cargo was concerned, she did everything carefully.

When she returned, Dumatar made a sweeping gesture toward the nearest wreck. "We will escort you, honored Captain."

"That is very kind of you!" I told him. "But I think we will start with that one over there." I jerked my head toward the big airship that had hit the ground and rolled nearly keel upward before it broke in half. Tempest had given me some advice about which ship to search first and where various items might be stowed.

I walked off toward the wreck without waiting for Dumatar, and my crew followed. It was soon obvious why the Rati had attempted to distract me with another vessel; the one I was headed toward hadn't been searched yet. And there was a very good reason for that.

The airship's broken keel had twisted as it snapped, but hadn't ripped the hull open wide enough for a pony to squeeze through. She was a completely enclosed design, and her upper (now lower) structure that contained her gas cells had crumpled under the weight of the crew and cargo section. Her ballast had flooded down through her interior, along with a lot of the thick oil that the Storm King's ships burned in their engines. It was a mess.

The hull had the expected anti-thaumic coating, but I could easily reach in through the cracks and get a grip on the inside of the plating with my magic. I peeled a wide section off of the ribs and mashed one end down into the sand forming a crude ramp into the interior.

"Please, Honored Captain," Dumatar called out to me. "Allow my dogs to enter before you. There were survivors in the other ships. There may be some here, too!"

I noticed that the burly dogs behind him had drawn weirdly-shaped swords from their belts. Despite looking like bronze question marks, I could see that the weapons were very practical ones. Apparently well-used, also—if I was any judge.

"Thank you for your concern, but I can deal with any survivors if need be." I said, and climbed up the ramp.

I lit my horn at the top and stepped into what appeared to be a store room. There was a jumble of mechanical parts and broken shelving on the overhead, and a strong stench of oil and blood. The hatch across from me was twisted off its hinges, and there was a dark companionway beyond.

"It's clear," I called back to the Nebulas. "Light your gems and follow me."

The rest of the crew climbed up the ramp as I entered the companionway, the jackals and dogs following closely after. I went along until I came to a cross intersection, and swept my hornlight both directions, fore and aft. There were yeti bodies jammed into the forward section, obviously dead. I turned right and came to a ladder, which was above me on the deck, leading upward into darkness.

I looked back at the crew. "We'll go that way," I told them, pointing to the opening where the ladder disappeared. "It's too narrow to risk flying in here so I'll levitate us up there."

Ao spoke up. "Your pardon Captain, but this one does not require cumbersome wings to fly. Might this one proceed you to the next deck and provide a lookout while you move the crew?"

"Good idea, Ao. Go ahead and—"

Right at that moment, Spike gave a choking gurgle and hacked up a scroll.

"Excuse me, I've got to take this," I said, grabbing the scroll and unrolling it. The jackals goggled and muttered among themselves.

The message was from Celestia. A fleet of airships had been spotted off Equestria's east coast, heading northward. The description the captain of the griffin merchant airship had given the telegraph office in Baltimare matched the Stormguard ships, and since they were paralleling the coast, but over the horizon, they were obviously up to no good.

I scribbled out a hasty reply to Celestia on the back of the paper, promising to discuss the situation with Luna that night in Seaward Shoals. Spike had developed very good control over his breath, but with all the oil around us I didn't want to risk any accidents, so I briefly enclosed him in a little shield bubble while he sent the reply.

"Okay! Ms. Ao, go on up. I'll be right behind you."

We worked our way aft, finding more bodies but no survivors until we reached a large, open bay full of scrambled cargo. Trapped beneath a pile of half-smashed crates was a big yeti who glared at us and futilely scrabbled for a poleaxe that was well out of his reach.

"Easy, there!" I called out to him. "We're not going to—"

A big dog stepped around me and plunged his sword into the helpless creature's neck.

I didn't slam the dog into the nearest bulkhead, but I really wanted to for a couple of seconds. I took several deep breaths while my crew looked at me for some signal, and then said to Dumatar Rati, "Please don't kill any more wounded. I wish to deal with them myself."

"As you wish, Captain," he replied, and casually relayed the request to his dogs.

We found two more live yetis before we reached the hold that Tempest had described to me. One was too far gone to be helped, and I removed his helmet and put him into a deep, painless sleep from which he wouldn't awaken. The other had two badly broken legs but was otherwise in good shape. He tried to fight us, but Ao and I got him tied up quickly and I teleported him back to Nebula for Dr. Woundwort to deal with. I looked forward to a conversation between him and Tempest when the anesthesia wore off.

Tempest had told me that the secret compartment beneath the hold's deck might be hard to find and difficult to open, but the violent crash and near-complete rollover had taken care of all that for us. On top of the wreckage of the hold's ordinary cargo was a hatch that looked very much like a section of the deck above us. On top of that hatch was a heavy, iron-bound chest.

I smiled. "Zashira, trap protocol, if you please!"

"Aye-aye, Captain!" my sometimes zebra Third Officer replied. She unlimbered a brass case from her harness and took out a set of very specialized tools. After a minute or two of fiddling she stood up and stowed the tools away, leaving a long steel shim wedged below the lid of the chest. "There is a spring-loaded surprise under the lid. It's probably a dart-thrower or something similar. It should be jammed now."

"Thank you, Zashira! Everyone please step back." I lifted the chest in my magic, spun it until the hinges pointed toward us, and lifted the lid. There was a sharp, metallic click and… Nothing else. I floated a little inspection mirror over so that I could look into the chest without exposing myself.

"Ah." I gently set the chest back on top of the hatch. I hated to risk anypony else, but since I was the only one of us who had a hope of de-petrifying someone, I turned to Zashira again. "There's a glass sphere in the trap. Carefully remove it and toss it over the pile away from us if you can. If there's any chance it might break, leave it."

She nodded and carefully approached the chest again. It only took her a second. I've said it many times; she's the best Third Officer (and intricate security mechanism specialist[3]) there is. As a changeling, she's also good at reading emotions, and since she'd been standing next to me when I'd seen what was in the chest, she didn't shout out, "Holy frippin' frass!" when she glanced inside.

[3] Okay, safecracker.

The glass sphere shattered on the far bulkhead and a bouquet of glittering black crystals blossomed there with a crackling hiss.

I closed the chest and fastened the hasp. "This should do nicely for a token of our victory," I said to Dumatar Rati. "We will return to our ship now."

All pretense of obsequious helpfulness vanished. "Dumatar has been commanded by his Sidi to inspect any items you wish to claim." His two companions gripped their staves and the dogs behind them spread out and held their swords ready.

"Oh? Hmn…" I pulled out the freshly signed letter of marque from my pocket and pretended to examine it. "Nope. No clause about spoils of war anywhere in here. Under generally accepted convention, all of this—" I swept a hoof around at the surrounding airship. "—is my prize." I put the letter back in my pocket.

"Open the chest," the rati said.

"Nebulas, to me," I said quietly. "Press in close." I couldn't teleport us out because we had too many highly-charged magical items among us. A thaumic detonation is all too likely when attempting to transit such things, and I really didn't want fragments of my crew and I scattered through interstitial space.

"If you want to do things the hard way, Rati, I will be only too happy to oblige. But be warned, I have—"

The gem on his staff blazed and a searing bolt of energy shot straight at my face.

It's a sad fact that magic fights aren't usually won by better or stronger magic. In almost all cases, aside from formal duels with limitations and rules, victory usually goes to the pony (or jackal) who gets off the first shot. But I had been expecting something like this and had called up a shield spell under cover of pompously monologuing. The shot bounced off the spherical shield and hit the deck above us. The other jackals began firing, and when their shots bounced off as well, they all concentrated their firepower on one spot just in front of me, and the pulses turned into steady beams. It was a good tactic. Despite reflecting most of their energy upward, the beams of energy began to quickly erode my shield. So, I spun it up.

In seconds, my shield was rotating so quickly that the force was effectively on a ring around its surface, instead of a single point. "Don't touch the inside of the shield!" I warned my crew. I didn't have the strength to spare for an inner static shield, and any contact with the rapidly moving field would be like trying to lean against a speeding freight train.

Even though I had spread out the attack, I could still feel the shield weakening. The power of the gems on those staffs was incredible. I began to bob the sphere up and down in a steady sine wave, and that did the trick. Finally, the shield could dissipate the energy quicker than it absorbed it.

I felt relieved until one of the jackals yelled to the dogs, and a couple of them ran off—to get reinforcements, no doubt. Even with my storage gems, I couldn't keep the shield up forever.

"I don't want to hurt you!" I yelled to the jackals. They didn't reply and they didn't stop firing. Oh well, I tried.

Their reflected shots had already shattered the deck above us, but there didn't seem to be anything beyond but an empty ballast tank. When I reduced the matrix factor of the spell that generated my shield, it went from a smooth sphere to a faceted one. That may not seem like a big change, but picture a beam of light hitting a mirror. Nice and predictable, right? Now picture that same beam hitting a spinning disco ball.

Now picture that beam of light as high energy magic blasts in an enclosed space with puddles of fuel oil and a dark magic crystal trap in the corner of the room. No matter how good your imagination is, the real event was worse.

Fortunately, I already had a heavy shield up, and it protected us from the resulting explosion and fire for a critical few seconds before it failed. I blasted through the bulkhead into the next compartment and then again into the next until I penetrated the outer hull. After the heavy blasts and keeping up the shield for so long, I had to fall back on my power gems to levitate the crew and the chest out through the wreckage. Ao brought up the rear and kept the oily flames off of us with gusts of magical wind. I didn't waste what magic I had left in the gems with more levitation once we'd gotten outside, but plunked Ralf down on my back while Zashira carried the chest.

"Back to Bibliophile!" I yelled, and sprinted for the cutter.

I tumbled back aboard with Ralf while Zashira placed the chest between the central pair of thwarts and resumed being Khaatarrekket. I made sure Ralf was on the tiller and then sliced the lines fastened to the ballast sandbags and the mooring stakes. Bibliophile leaped upward as the rest of the crew circled her in the air.

Below us, several coughing dogs, their fur singed and smoking, stumbled out of the wreck at the same time as three more jackals with an entourage of fighting dogs erupted up out of the sand from newly dug tunnels. The surviving dogs of the first party called out to the jackals, gesturing upward at Bibliophile. The jackals pointed their staffs at Bibliophile's gasbag.

An instant after their gems began to glow, Rainbow Dash blazed by, right in front of them, and the top thirds of their staves fell to the ground, cut clean through by Dash's cutlass. The decapitated gems flickered and went out amid a chorus of angry snarls.

Dash climbed up to our elevation and winked at me. "Y'okay, Twi?"

"Never better, you outrageous show-off!" I grinned at her.

She smiled back. "Love you too, Captain Sootmane!"

Ao swooped by just then and flew next to us as we rose. "Officer Ket returned to Nebula to prepare for a hasty retreat."

"Good! I think that's the best plan right now."

I leaned over the side and watched Spike and Sherbet climbing up below us. "Go on to the ship," I called out to them as soon as they were close enough to hear me clearly. "Get ready to take Bibliophile in tow; I don't want to waste time stowing her away!"

They both yelled "Aye-aye," and disappeared above our envelope.

"If the hounds pursue us, Majesty?" Ao asked.

"Ralf thinks it unlikely," Ralf put in. "Dogs do not like flying."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Most dogs—Majesty."

Dash burst out laughing.

"Oh no you don't!" I said to the little dog. "It's bad enough this overgrown murder-noodle does it! It's 'Captain' to you! Understand, Engineer Ralf?"

"Understood—" He wagged his tail at me. "—Captain."

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Author's Note

Blackmane's Burgee