Chapters Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
“Catch!”
A gift-wrapped box the size of a basketball flew through the air, only to be caught by an earthy brown stallion wearing a brightly coloured party hat. All around them, the cottage had been decorated in celebration of a birthday that would’ve gone unnoticed had it not been for a scarlet and lapis unicorn, the same one who’d almost clunked the birthday boy on the head.
The earth pony in question looked down at his new present with excitement before turning back to his friend.
“Thanks Toybox, but uh…” He’d then turn to look at the table behind him, a home-baked birthday cake with the number thirty-two spelt out as icing sat atop it, surrounded by a hoofful of other presents. “Don’t you think I’m getting a little old for this?”
The party pony only chuckled and smiled. “Oh come on Drill Bit, you're never too old to have fun!”
He looked down at the ribbon wrapped box and contemplated for a moment, but quickly returned to his slightly younger friend. “I guess you're right, still, I think I would’ve preferred to go to a restaurant or something.”
A bulky grey hoof patted his shoulder and Drill Bit turned to see his only other companion. An earth pony with the body of a full time labourer, but the attitude of a stoic. “Later.” He quietly said.
Drill pouted as a tinge of guilt ran through his system. “You sure Steel? I don’t want you shelling out for my sake.”
“My treat. It is your birthday after all.”
“Well…alright, just try not to let your stomach take control again. Remember last time?”
The stallion’s blank frown took on the ghost of a grin, the corners of his mouth raising just enough to be called a smile. For Drill, it was confirmation enough. He knew Steel Beam as somepony who didn’t complain much.
That role was for Toybox.
“Come on, open it already!”
A colt at heart was probably the best way to describe him as he nearly bounced in place, eagerly awaiting the other’s reaction as Drill pried open the present.
Inside was a large, darkly coloured rock in the vague shape of a ball. A rock breaking hammer came with the package but Drill Bit rolled his eyes and smashed a hoof into the stone. His earth pony strength came into effect as the geode split in two, and all three were presented with the gleaming of purple crystalline light.
Drill even seemed to smile at it. “An amethyst geode? How nice.”
“Yep! Can you guess where it’s from?”
“Volcanic basalt exterior…I’m gonna say Badlands.”
“Yesarony! Would’ve probably been dragon food otherwise.”
Drill turned around to open another present, which held similar contents. This time when he broke open the geode, it contained crystals with a dazzling array of different colours, all changing as he switched around the angles.
Steel Beam raised an eyebrow and Toybox peered in, oohing and aahing at the display.
However, Drill Bit didn’t seem impressed, more disappointed if anything.
“Titanium quartz with a granite shell, would’ve had to have been treated to get this colour. And there’s parts of the surface that’ve been smoothed out, probably to hide tool marks where it was resealed. Toybox, where did you get this?” He looked up at him.
The unicorn hesitated for a moment, suddenly turning sheepish as he rubbed the temple. “From…Diamidia?”
Drill continued to stare at him, unsatisfied with the response.
“Look I travel a lot, went into a gift shop and remembered your B-day was coming up, I thought you’d like it, being a geologist and all.”
Breathing slowly, Drill glanced between the processed mineral and the pony gifting it. Disdain for the item rising at the back of his mind, yet he kept a lid on it as he answered him. “I’ll admit it does look nice,” he lied. “I’ll put it with the others later, thanks Toybox.”
Toy smiled as Drill set down the fake geode and rose from his chair.
“I’ll be a moment, need some fresh air.”
“Sure thing, want me to sing happy b-day and cut the cake when you come back?”
A stuffled chuckle left the stallion as he faced Toybox. “Now, now, I’m not a colt anymore Toybox, but thanks.”
The unicorn shrugged. “No problem.”
With a turn of the door handle, Drill Bit basked in the warmth of the early afternoon sun. The familiar shapes of cozy wood and thatch cottages surrounding him at every angle.
Hockston wasn’t a big place, not by any means.
A country village not even half the size of Ponyville, but that size meant the town could take in the picturesque landscape around it, all the rolling hills and distaint forests, the bright blue sky and fluffy clouds.
It was a nice place and he couldn’t have asked for a better town to raise him. He took a moment to allow the crisp summer air to breathe through his mane as internally things weren’t going so well.
He briefly scolded himself for being so rude. Toybox was nice, but Drill always had to remind himself he was only half a decade ahead of him, how could he be so childlike all the time? How could he have the energy? They weren’t colts anymore, they were ageing stallions and every day at the quarry drilled that into his head.
Maybe he and Steel Beam had just lost something Toybox still had? A creative spark he refused to let go?
All of those were questions he could understand and answer himself; however, what he couldn’t fathom was how one could find beauty in something fake.
Spending so much time underground had given him an appreciation of nature, not that he was the kind of pony to build a cabin in the woods for it. But between cold greys and darkened caves, occasionally lit up with the glimmers of raw minerals, he preferred the fields emerald grass blades and citrine wheat stalks.
Artificial beauty couldn’t ever replace the real thing, no matter how close it got.
Drill Bit let out a held breath and started walking, five minutes around the block to get his blood flowing, then Toybox could sing to him all he wanted.
He waved to passers by and took in the sights, the smell of freshly baked bread and apple pies managing to waft all the way from Ms. Icing’s bakery. Suddenly that cake became a little more tempting, but he held off as he rounded a few more corners.
He’d almost completed his circuit when he saw something.
Perched atop a roof, looking down at him in the middle of the road, was an owl, in the middle of a busy day.
But what made the image so inexplicably bizarre was that the owl wasn’t flesh and blood, it was mechanical. A copper and bronze body supporting a pair of closed wings resembling an assortment of blades for feathers, large glowing eyes hummed an orange hue and not once did it blink.
Some kind of toy maybe?
Drill glanced between street corners and suddenly found the road surprisingly empty, barren of life in both sight and sound. It then registered that he didn’t hear those familiar sounds, no carts being pulled or ponies chatting with one another, he saw no Pegasi in the skies nor heard the playful cries of kids.
“Wha, where did everypony go?” He muttered, turning around to find the pony he’d just passed no longer present, before returning back to the mechanical owl.
A powerful gust of cold air kicked up and blew through his mane, expecting it to pass he drew his hoof up for cover, only to find it stuck in place as the gale continued to roar.
Shop signs were kicked up, barrels began to overturn and plants flew from their pots atop window sills. The very air around him was sucked of its warmth as roof mounted wind gauges spun out of control.
Yet, all that became trivial as, behind the owl, something crept over the horizon.
Like a black tidal wave it grew, a dense wall of dark, storming thunder climbed higher into the sky.
Drill Bit just stood there, paralysed with shock and horror at what was barreling toward him.
The oncoming storm engulfed both sides of the horizon end to end, blocking out the sun as it hungerly advanced. Drill couldn’t will himself to move, he didn’t know why, shock & awe maybe? It didn’t take long for it to reach the town and when it did, it was like Drill had been swallowed whole.
Immediately, his blood chilled as the storm threatened to freeze him solid. All around him the ground turned to packed ice and snow, any semblance of the previous summer warmth cast aside as only the bitter cold remained.
He was unable to see more than a few metres away and it nearly took all his strength just to maintain his balance, were he a Pegasus in flight he may have just been tossed to the wayside. Only the guiding amber light of the mechanical owl remained and with little other option Drill pushed towards it.
The owl let out a hoot as it flew further into the storm, heedless of the mighty wind that slowed Drill Bit to a crawl.
“Wait!” He cried. “Don’t leave me!”
But if the owl had heard him it refused to slow down, further and further it flew, deeper into the abyss, faster then Drill could keep pace. His limbs grew stiff and ridged, his skin felt numb and his mane no longer flapped with the wind.
Drill dared not pause to look over himself, lest he find the horrible state of his body and lose sight of the owl. Yet as he tried harder and harder to advance, he could feel his body reaching its limits, ready to give out under him.
In an instant, there was a loud snap as he suddenly tumbled into the snow, white ash stinging his face as he rolled over trying to right himself.
But his limbs wouldn’t respond, after a quick look, he saw why.
His front right leg had snapped in half, made brittle by the rapid onset of frostbite. There was no red river, nor cruel pain of dismemberment, his frozen nerves and clogged veins had made sure of that, clear through the blackened skin under his fur. But the horror was no less as saw his exposed bone stick out like a jagged icicle, and witnessed more of his body turn black and cover with ice.
Drill Bit struggled still, either out of feral instinct or force of will, but the more he tried to right himself the more he could hear his legs buckle and break under their own weight. And the all encompassing chill continued to spread, as he felt his body start to weaken.
He’d just about got to his hooves when his hinds gave out, both breaking at the knees and snapping like branches. Prompting a sudden scream of shock from the ageing stallion as he once more crashed to the ground.
The owl’s light was fading, and he felt so, so cold…
Author's Note
When the frost came Equestria prepared as best it could, but with famine, strained logistics and a lack of clear leadership on the part of the Princess. All it took was one massive, apocalyptic storm the likes of which were so bad, it became known as the Great Storm.
Before, Equestria as a nation was on the brink of fracturing and collapse. The Great Storm didn't just break the country's back, it snapped it in half.
My second ever story, and this time I'm experimenting with a different chapter structure after the 10k chapter mess that was The Boy and the Bug. While I'm still very much proud of that story it's evident it was my first.
Hope you enjoy!
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Drill Bit stood dumbfounded, his mouth agape and the weight of his mind dragging him down.
The owl had perched itself on the edge of the rooftop and was glancing all around, its features obscured by the bright light of the moon, illuminating not just the city streets but also the white specks of snow falling from the sky, further blurring his view.
But it was there, right in front of him on a perch held high for all to see.
“It’s the evening though!” Drill tried to reason with himself. “Maybe I have nothing to worry about? It was during the day that it was bad luck, right? It’s not like a black cat...Right?”
As much as he tried to assure himself, one wouldn’t have to look very hard to see the apprehension in his posture. Still as a statue, unsure what to do, what does one do when you're being haunted by supernatural forces?
Call animal control?
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the street, briefly forcing Drill to shield his eyes from the oncoming snow. When he turned back to view the owl he found it was no longer there.
It was also then that he’d found the street…oddly quiet.
There wasn’t a soul in sight, such a thing was a rarity within the city given how condensed everything was. But here he was, standing in the middle of an empty road as a cloud blurred the moon’s light.
Slowly, he made his way towards the front entrance and entered the building, navigating through tight hallways and past dozens of other doors.
Every step he could hear his own breaths, louder than any boiler or restless child in the building. His heart thumping in his chest as if the organ was where his brain should’ve been, and each step felt heavy and drawn out.
“It’ll be fine, I’ll just go to bed and deal with whatever fate has for me in the morning. And hopefully, something worse doesn’t happen in the meantime.”
He sluggishly reached his apartment and fumbled around with the keys before unlocking the door.
But when it did open his jaw, for the second time that night, felt fit to crash into the ground just like his keys, as standing there inside his room waiting for him was a pony in a red and black uniform smugly staring at him.
It was everything he feared and worse, he thought it wouldn’t happen or at least take longer, yet he now stood paralysed with fear as the guard took a step towards him.
“Drill Bit?” He asked, as then two more guards walked out a pair of nearby doors flanking him, blocking off the hallways and with it, any chance of escape.
“We’d like you to come with us.”
This is not how Drill imagined spending the night.
First he’d been talked down to by the colt he’d saved, then when he tried making things better he’d been arrested. Now he was approaching one of the most infamous buildings in the entire city.
Before him stood a monolithic, towering structure on the very edge of town. Easily the single biggest in the city that wasn’t the Generator, with exterior walls several times his height lined with barbed wire and watched over by guard towers.
Speaking of which, the guards had confiscated the petition as evidence, likely to be turned into kinderling after they were done with him. There was no trial or judge, they’d just taken him from his apartment and off the prison he went, with little more than the clothes on his back.
It’s funny, only a few days ago he hadn’t minded any of this, paid no mind to the patrols or the prison. A necessary evil in the face of destruction.
Now he was scared, scared of what awaited him inside that awful place, scared of who else they’d thrown in there and scared of what they’d do to him.
But most of all, scared of the ghosts that would come back to haunt him.
Surely they’d take pity on him, right? A forty two year old that was only trying to do the right thing.
It seemed only time would tell. Sweet Celestia how he missed the times when a pony could say whatever and the worst they get is a light scolding.
He was led through the gates under watch and stripped of his clothing, forced to face the bitter cold with only a coat of fur. After that it was off to the cells, thankfully the guards weren’t pushy with him, if anything they seemed as bothered by it as him.
Having to lockup an aging stallion for such obscene reasons would’ve annoyed anypony.
The main cell block was a huge square room lined wall to wall with cells, each one having solid walls and a steel door with the only window anywhere being a thin letterbox like cutout in the door. In the middle of the atrium was a tower that led to a circular room with several one-way windows, with sight of the whole area, a panopticon.
He turned to his escort with weary eyes. “How long will I be here?”
“Three days, two if you're lucky.” He responded, almost robotically.
“And my job? I was a forepony.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll probably get it back.”
Drill looked to him with concern. “Probably?”
The guard turned to him, looking equally as tired with bags under his eyes. “As I said, if you're lucky. Now please, no more questions.”
Drill grimaced, subtle panic sinking into his mind at the thought. “If I get replaced, will they treat the kids kindly? Oh buck…”
They soon arrived at his cell and with his head hung low, Drill entered.
It consisted of very little, there wasn’t a heater to keep him warm, the bed was just a wooden plank with a thin sheet strewn on held up by chains, the lightbulb above him was off leading to it being near pitch black, a bucket for…disposal and instead of a window to the outside world, a hoof drawn poster with a crude imitation of a sunny day outside had been put up.
“Seriously?”
“Hey look on the bright side, at least it’s clean.” The guard gestured towards the corner where the bucket lay, prompting a shudder from Drill Bit as the door was shut.
He paced around his cell, unable to see much bar what little light came through the letterbox in his door. Already he could feel the ambient cold creep into him as the unprotected concrete walls did little to insulate the room. In place of artificial warmth however, another fire began to burn, stoked by a singular thought.
“This isn’t right, how the BUCK did Iron’s get away with that law?”
It was small for now, but it was enough to take his mind off the creeping chill around him.
In the end he climbed up onto this poor excuse for a bed and laid down, unable to rest his head properly without a pillow, tossing his head from side to side in frustration.
It would take a while before his body finally gave in and allowed him to sleep, how much he wasn’t sure. But one thing was for certain: He’d never take his bed for granted again.
Drill Bit awoke to the sound of the morning foghorn and when he did it was with a shudder as his body began shaking violently, the cold had crept in during the night and his teeth chittered so much they could’ve cracked. He got up and nearly fell from his “bed,” exchanging the lukewarm plank for the bitter cold of the stone ground but just about caught himself, yet he still struggled to even stand.
“Get…Moving…need to…warm up.”
Drill paced around his room as best he could, his stiff joints and tired mind impeding his speed but eventually he got a decent pace going.
After around ten minutes the chitters and shakes lessened, no longer so powerful they threatened to throw him to the ground.
It was then he heard several loud bangs against his door, and below a hatch large enough for a cat, opened. A half empty bowl of thin, watery soup then slid inside on a tray. More likely meant for raising his body temperature then providing nutrition, but given his state Drill raised no objection.
Slowly, he knelt down, choosing to try slurping it up with his mouth instead of risking it with his shaky hooves, that and the last thing he wanted was to touch more of the cold ground. Also in the event it tasted awful, at least he could spit it out quickly.
Almost immediately, the near boiling hot bowl burned his mouth and throat worse than any cup of liquor, and a sudden gag saw him spit out his first mouthful coughing. After a moment to calm down he realised that was probably half of what little the bowl offered and he fought back a curse.
“This is obscene, I shouldn’t be here!”
Trying again, he tested it slowly and consumed its contents without further issue…outside of the less than stellar taste.
Still, it was barely enough to keep him satiated and as he continued pacing through his cell, he found the familiar pain of hunger set in. It was nothing he couldn’t deal with, but it compounded the other issues he was facing, and it would only get worse.
The first day saw Drill get introduced to his new routine, or lack thereof.
He spent most of his time inside his cell, absentmindedly thinking whilst trying to fight the cold and his boredom.
Who’s idea was it to place the captain of a company of guards in charge of the city? He was a leader of soldiers, not citizens. Wasn’t some noble or town mayor meant to succeed the administrator after the thing was built? Then again he wasn’t knowledgeable of the bigger picture, he’d only realised the Generator’s true purpose when the Great Storm came, much like everypony else.
He couldn’t argue the captain’s worth though, without him they would’ve all been put in collar and chain by the Diamond Dogs.
Doubly so for the Kirins that made it.
Still, covertly clamping down on freedom of speech like this? He understood times were tough and sacrifices had to be made, but by harmony they were still ponies weren’t they?
What happened to the Unity and Compassion that had helped form this nation many centuries ago?
This thought caused a quiet, boiling anger to slowly build within him, not the kind he’d have an outburst over but that of resentment.
He’d have to keep it to himself, he was smarter than to express himself here of all places, and so seconds turned to minutes and minutes to hours as Drill circled his cell, occasionally taking breaks to rest his aching legs. When he heard another trio of knocks it nearly made him jump, when the door opened and he saw a pair of blank faced guards outside with one of them holding cuffs.
“Drill Bit? We need you to come with us.”
The stallion stared at them for several seconds, apprehensive at first but sensing little option he complied. Still chittering and shaking as they cuffed his front hooves.
He was led through the prison once more and saw very few other prisoners. One bound up pegasus here, a unicorn there, but it was nothing like the sprawling crowds of the streets.
Maybe everypony was still in their cells? Hopefully they were empty, it would’ve been nice to know New Canterlot didn’t have many criminals roaming its streets.
But he wasn’t a criminal, if anything he was an activist. That left him wondering how many of these ponies had gotten thrown in here for similar reasons?
It was a train of thought he put the brakes on as the guards passed through door after door and soon reached a secluded hallway, which led up to a single, ominous steel door.
“What is this place? What’s gonna happen to me?” He asked, dreading a number of possible answers.
Sadly, the guards didn’t reply, instead turning away refusing to make eye contact.
That alone set Drill on edge as they sped towards the door, and dread began building as one of the guards reached for the handle.
He briefly glanced at Drill Bit and spoke in a low, regretful tone. “Sorry about this…”
The guard’s words weren't lost on Drill as he turned to meet him, and he realised what he thought was the case when he arrived, they were taking pity on him.
With a horrible metal creak the door opened and he was presented with a ghastly sight. Inside, the room had dark stains across its walls with racks of different tools and a generous amount of rope. Chains hung from the ceiling and the putrid smell of blood wafted into his nose.
But most menacing of all was the pony inside, covered head to hoof in black and red garbs that hid his face and mane. To his side was a large studded baton with what looked like a Tesla battery below its pomel, indicative of the shocking treatment Drill was in for.
It was a torture chamber.
By Celestia, it was a torture chamber…
“P-please, you don’t have to do this…” Drill pleaded.
The garbed pony looked to him, it was difficult to see his eyes from under his cowl, but they were visible. Both guards behind him then pushed him inside and towards one of the ceiling chains, a magical aura enveloping a pile of rope from the racks.
“I’m afraid I do, you need to learn what awaits you should you think of returning here. Hopefully for your sake this is a lesson that won’t need to be repeated.”
Drill had both his front hooves tied up to the chain and with a yank from one of the guards, he was hoisted up into the air. He peered through between his front legs to view the torturer who twisted several dials on his baton.
“I already know enough, what happened to keeping things simple? This, this is overkill!”
The torturer approached with slow, heavy steps, each echoing through the room. “I’m sorry, but punishments need to mean something, we can’t lock up ponies for years and years anymore. It doesn’t accomplish anything.”
“Isn’t want you’re doing punishment enough?!” Drill spat, taking the torturer by surprise. “I’m freezing, I’m starving, there are ponies who might not know where I’ve gone and just a few days ago, I had to amputate a child’s wing to prevent him being eaten by a machine! And now I’m being beaten for trying to do what’s right?”
Drill’s voice practically echoed through the room, actually causing the guards to take a step back.
“I can understand punishment but this? This is barbaric!” He roared, the prior anger bellowing out into the room.
Everypony paused what they were doing, the guards held him in place as the ropes grinded against his fur and the torturer stared at him, baton in hoof.
A long moment of silence passed as the garbed pony hesitated, Drill staring at him in anger and trepidation.
“You know what?” He finally spoke, “It is, corporal? Take him back to his cell, I think he gets the message.”
An audible sigh of relief escaped Drill’s lungs as the guards let him down and unbound his hooves. They quickly righted him and moved to escort him out, but just before he left, he turned to the garbed pony watching him leave.
“Thank you.”
The torturer simply nodded as the door closed.
The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but given what constituted as an event within the prison, Drill was thankful for the quiet. That being said, being alone in his cell did get boring after a while, he could only walk so many circles before he ran out of other things to think about.
Things besides…that.
He didn’t want to think about that, those things he’d done.
They were in the past, and should stay in the past.
Occasionally he’d try peeking through the letterbox window in his door but the view provided very little, he could see the guard rail outside his cell and the base of the tower, and if he looked hard enough the doors to a couple of cells behind it, but little else.
Soon he was served another quarter ration and took care not to spill anything, it wasn’t nearly enough to quell his hunger or fight the cold, but it kept him alive.
The only indicators of time were the morning and evening foghorns from outside, followed by the muffled words of the announcer, likewise he only knew it was time for bed when the interior lights dimmed.
Getting to sleep was hard, worse than the night prior as then he at least had some excess body heat to work with. But like it would with all things, his stubborn body would eventually find rest…
Drill awoke with yet another shudder, the horrible cold worming its way through his body threatening to freeze his core. Biting his lip he forced himself upright and began pacing his room, he didn’t know how long he’d slept but it couldn’t have been any more than an hour or two.
Sleep had become the enemy, rest had become the enemy. No longer would his body accept such delightful unconsciousness when the threat to his life was so great.
And so with the adrenaline to match, he kept going, and going, and going until he felt ready to lay down, if only to perform the ritual all over again…
For two more days he starved, deprived of sleep, sustenance and sufficient warmth, all the while haunted by screams both young and old.
Irony was now he almost wanted to endure the torture he’d escaped. Least that would’ve been a new sensation as opposed to the crippling boredom and exhaustion that continued to eat away at him.
Was the cold within the room really that bad? Eventually he couldn’t feel his hooves though that could’ve been from just how much walking he’d done. Maybe the temperature had been fine tuned and it wouldn’t kill him?
He didn’t want to find out.
Either way the stallion pushed on with dogged determination, caught in this twilight between wakefulness and rest, with enough energy to move his body but not enough to focus on anything more then simple tasks. Honestly his body was basically on autopilot at this point, moving more due to muscle memory than anything.
He might’ve been spared direct torture, but his torment was great enough.
At last on the third day he collapsed into a heap on the ground, his body and mind revolting against him. The cold was brutally efficient at taking away more than he could recover and his stomach twisted into an unbearable knot.
“This is it,” he thought, “End of the line, all because of some stupid, bucking law…”
The world began to grow dark as exhaustion caught up with him all at once, unable to force himself to move, like his hooves had become solid chunks of metal. Only his breathing was audible as the curtains closed around his eyes.
Perhaps now, he could finally rest?
Author's Note
Without the resources to support lengthy prison sentences, the penal system of New Canterlot focuses much more on punishment over reform and makes the knowledge of such punishments public, to help dissuade anycreature from mischief.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Drill and Comet’s first day at the Hothouse could’ve gone a lot better.
But it also could’ve gone a lot worse.
They’d spent the rest of their shift thawing out the grow bed rack Drill had flash frozen and by the end of it, Drill was feeling weary. Physical labour was nothing new to him, he’d been doing it for years. Comet however struggled a lot more and often had to take breaks, but even he couldn’t hide the smile on his face from breaking ice chunks with a pickaxe.
When the two left all that remained were a few scattered blocks that’d melt overnight.
True Applebloom was still a little cross with them in the end, but she mellowed out somewhat and seemed like she’d be over it by the next morning.
After dinner it was a simple matter of going home, and by the sun did Drill feel full. Turns out that while the farmers didn’t receive larger bowls of rations than everypony else, they did get the freshest. And after living off half rations for several days Drill’s belly felt pleasingly heavy.
He’d almost say he felt like himself again, almost .
But now it was getting dark and the two were heading home. Weaving around crowded streets as everypony else was also coming off shift. Drill’s sluggishness and Comet’s inability to see over his head meant they were practically swimming blind in this ocean of bodies. Even in the post-apocalypse, rush hour wasn’t kind.
Inevitably, there was an accident and the two crashed into some creature who’d hit them hard enough that they fell to the ground.
Like a rock in a river back, the crowd went around them as Drill got up to see who’d he bumped into.
Staring back at him with a sheepish smile was yet another Diamond Dog. It wasn’t Cazrel though, this one had a much smaller frame and looked to have been a pitbull with white and brown patched fur. He even still had his collar featuring several blue gems, with a single depression where it looked like one went missing.
“Is it just me or do I have a real habit of bumping into Diamond Dogs?”
Drill climbed to his hooves and helped Comet do the same before turning to him. “Sorry about that.”
The dog muttered something, probably a “you’re welcome,” but it was so quiet it was lost to the crowd as he recovered. It was at this point Drill noticed something: That at no point did he take his eyes off Comet for more than a few seconds…
Drill did not like that.
Maybe he was just curious about the wing? Many ponies were giving Comet those looks but it never bothered the colt.
It didn’t matter much as the lanky Diamidian disappeared into the crowds, but something about that irked him.
He decided not to dwell on it and continue home.
Drill leaned back into his bed and rested for a time. He had to give up his reading chair during the apartment’s refit and had to make due. But now he had more of an excuse to use the lamp on his nightstand as opposed to the overhead.
He could probably even use it to prop up books and read while lying down, so not that bad of a change.first met Comet, but definitely tiresome.
Now he was prepared to settle in and-
Knock Knock Knock!
Drill’s head snapped towards his door, already knowing what was next and fought back a tired sigh.
“So this is what fatherhood feels like huh? How am I gonna get used to this?”
“Come in Comet! I’m just lying down.”
The door opened and Comet appeared wearing a set of stitched-together pyjamas with tiny stars drawn on.
“Mr. Drill Bit, are you okay?” He softly asked.
Drill fumbled and his head drew blanks when he tried to reply, he was so used to helping the colt with his own emotions that this change of pace blindsided him. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“Back at work you said you’d lost somepony, then coming home you looked worried. I heard adults were good at hiding when they're sad so I just thought I’d ask.”
The bed creaked as Drill got up and shook himself back to wakefulness, hoping it’d clear his thoughts.
“Well, I never did get the chance to finish what I was saying.” He got up from his bed and wandered over to his bookcase and started peering over them, looking for something specific. Before long he pulled out a hardback photo book and returned to his bed, smiling as he offered the spot next to him to Comet.
Drill opened the book as Comet took that spot on the bed, watching his reactions as Drill flicked through page after page of photos. Many of them depict little events of celebration or beauty. A birthday party with Steel Beam and Toy Chest, a sunset horizon at the edge of a cliff, a lush forest on a hike.
“I know it might not look like much, but this is what Equestria looked like before Steamtech.”
Comet looked upon the images with wonder, as though it were a fairy tail. “There’s so much green, is that all old copper?”
“Uh…no. Comet. That’s grass and those are trees, did you not know that?”
Comet turned to Drill looking slightly down. “I didn’t see many plants before it snowed. I’m from Voxburn, that place had metal and stone everywhere.”
Drill eyes went wide and he spoke slowly. “How much?”
“Doesn’t everywhere mean like…everywhere? It was Professor Fire Heart’s home so it got pretty popular.”
“Dear Celestia, the boys never touched grass until earlier today.”
There was a moment of awkward silence as he tried to think of a way to transition away from…that little revelation. It was a haunting thought to be sure but it made the book all the more important to him. Drill turned another page and showed Comet a golden field of wheat, which if his freckles were stars, they’d be twinkling right now.
This went on for a while as Drill showed more and more, explaining each photo and each time seeing the wonder in Comet’s eye. Once more filled with heartwarming joy as the colt asked question after question.
While joyous it was also a sad reminder of how the world he’d once known was truly being forgotten, as there were already generations growing up who’d never seen a world that wasn’t frozen over. It was a sobering thought to be sure.
But it was all fluff, he was only delaying the inevitable. He knew at some point he’d have to talk about her, and after a few more pages photos of her started cropping up.
An earth pony mare with a dirty copper orange coat and lighter blonde mane, with eyes as blue as sapphires and a smile to rival an angel.
“See that mare?” Drill asked, his voice low and genuine. “Her name was Copper Pan and she was my wife, we both loved each other very much.”
Comet sensed the change of tone and looked at him worriedly. “What happened?”
Drill sighed, already mentally preparing himself to recount the event.
“You know the Generator? That big thing in the middle of the city? You can see it from your window.”
He nodded.
“Well much like your parents, she and I were part of the construction crew. I was the Forepony keeping everycreature organised, and her job was to help move wagons full of wood for scaffolds.”
Even as he spoke, the memories started to flood back, to where he could hear the many ponies working and the smell of the metal all around him.
“One day though…” Drill paused, taking a deep breath in. “I was told we were falling behind, none of us knew how important the Generator was yet but…I was told above all else, we had to be fast.”
Comet shifted in place using a hoof to make circles in the fabric. Visibly concerned for the ageing stallion.
“At first I’d cut a few corners, skip an inspection here and there, cut a few breaks short. But then one day…there was an accident. The scaffold collapsed while Copper was on them…s-she’d stayed up the night before.”
He then turned to Comet, licking his lips trying to get the words out. It was like a lump had lodged itself into his throat as he tried. “Because of me.”
Despite his age, Comet could tell Drill was on the verge of tears, he could hear it in his voice as it cracked. To him, Drill Bit was quite a stoic stallion but here he could see him breaking at the seams.
“I-It only got worse after that. Other foreponies started having accidents, l-letters coming in had to be censored…to keep ponies motivated. They’d die…or-or live never knowing if their families were ever accepted here…or at any other s-site.”
“I want to believe that I’m a good pony but…It’s hard to live with that, knowing what you’ve done.”
At last, tears began rolling down Drill’s cheeks and the bottle burst. He softly whimpered and snorted as an untold number of events came down upon him at once. The muscles in his cheeks ached, the lump in his throat grew and his head throbbed with pain.
Yet in all that he still had a life preserver to cling to amongst this violent storm: Comet.
The boy clung to him and wrapped his wing over his back, staying quiet as he shared in his pain. Drill gently wrapped a hoof around and returned the embrace in kind, both now having found some common ground.
It was grief.
Drill’s breakdown wasn’t nearly as loud or over the top as Comet’s, but it did last for significantly longer by comparison. Comet had to go grab some paper from the bathroom for Drill to dry himself with, but like Comet he did eventually calm down before he was addressed.
“My dad told me something I think you should hear Mr. Drill. He told me a good pony will remember one wrong and be sad forever, and a bad pony will do one right and be happy forever. I know I can be a little dumb sometimes but I think you’re a great pony!”
Drill snorted and wiped his face with a tissue, “Th-Thank you Comet.”
“I mean it! You saved me at least twice, got me little Luna and my own room! I’m not at the Ore Plant anymore and just now you showed me what a cherry tree looks like! I didn’t know trees could be pink!”
“You’re a good pony Mr. Drill, your brain is just being mean.”
-before it turned into a deep, hearty laugh that even gave Comet a grin. It was the kind of witty energy he needed after having gone through so much. “That it is, you’re quite right.” He chuckled.
They paused for a time as they rode out the high and Drill closed his book. Never would he have known the little colt could be so self-aware. But he wasn’t about to turn down some good humour. He felt as though a weight had been lifted and turned to him with a smile.
“Thank you Comet, would you like to be tucked in?”
“Yes please!”
It was an unusually windy night in New Canterlot.
Very few ponies still walked the streets at this hour and those that did typically stayed close to the light while wrapping themselves in as many layers as they could. Convenient then that the moon pierced through the clouds, illuminating iced over rooftops and snow-covered streets better then any guard station could.
It was the only real reprieve from the bitter jabbing cold that tore through the city.
But for those resting they were treated to the perfect background noise to drown out the churning of pipes and shifting of cogs. Leading to easier acquired sleep than most and doing so within the relative comfort of their homes, however small they may be.
Yet something disturbed Drill Bit’s slumber and his unconscious mind began to reawaken. The sound of constant tapping against his window sent his mind back a decade or two.
“Damn tree, need to get those branches trimmed come morning.”
It took all of five seconds for the present to catch up to him.
“Wait…New Canterlot doesn’t have trees.”
Drill shot up from bed wide awake and turned to the source. There, perched on his one remaining window with its back to the moon…
Was the owl.
His heart sunk through the bedframe, his stomach twisted and the whole world darkened. Narrowly focused on that single black silhouette.
“Oh no,” He whispered to himself. “No no nononono, please not now. Not again.”
Drill didn’t raise his voice for fear of disturbing Comet but by the sun he wanted to. He wanted to scream at this thing for all it’d done to him, and for whatever it was about to do next. Throwing the covers he climbed out of bed and began to advance slowly.
“What do you want? Why are you here?”
The owl stared back in silence and quietly tapped the glass, not once taking sight off him.
“Why can’t you just leave me alone? I’m taking care of a kid now I can’t play this game!” Drill’s voice trembled, shifting rapidly between fear and anger.
As he drew near the window the owl stopped tapping, instead choosing to only stare. So many other times had Drill been subjected to the unspoken malevolence that eyesight alone brought on but here, it wasn’t present.
Yet the fear he felt couldn’t have been any more real.
Fear of the future, fear of the unknown and of uncertainty. The animal couldn’t understand him so what was he hoping to achieve? Some kind of peace?
Whatever his motivation he wasn’t afforded long to dwell on it as when the window drew within reach, the owl suddenly spread its wings and jumped, flying off into the moonlit city.
Drill stood still as a statue staring through the window with his heart racing no slower.
Now he was stricken with dread, a horrible, lingering dread for what the owl had in store for him. A horrible accident? Bad news about a friend? Maybe Ballpoint was going to throw them out of the Hothouses? Or worse…what if it was the sign of another disaster? Akin to the Great Storm?
When this all started he was never the type to believe in the supernatural, he’d only asked Steel Beam out of curiosity. But now just about anything was possible.
He walked up to the window and peered outside if only to allow the beautiful night sky to help clear his mind. The clouds had moved away to reveal a canvas of bright stars unobscured by the perpetual snowfall. While Drill had never been one to wonder what lay outside his little world, the events of the past two weeks had certainly been something.
“All this, because of some fate-twisting owl.”
By now his anger had managed to overtake his fear, and in his mind, he imagined bucking the owl in the face for all the misery it caused him…everyone in Equestria. Yet, as his eyes drifted back towards the door towards Comet’s room, a small glimmer of joy broke through the rage.
“I suppose he’s helped…in a way. I wouldn’t have met Comet otherwise, I would’ve kept continuously tolling away until the reaper came knocking.”
“So, now what? Do I still need to do something? Prove myself somehow? I thought I’d done enough.”
That was when a sapphire glitter caught his eye from behind the window seal. Setting aside his train of thought, he opened the window and allowed a gust of cold wind to blow through his mane. Not wanting to vent out his room’s warmth he quickly grabbed the object and shut it again.
It was a small, well-cut blue gemstone no larger than his hoof and seeing it struck him with deja vu, though he couldn’t reason why.
Was it a hint? Any clue what was coming? If it was it’d be a coin toss if he’d figure it out. Drill wasn’t the type to put pieces together quickly, his realisation back at the Hothouse proved that much.
Whatever was coming, he had to be ready.
Author's Note
“The Last Autumn” is the pre-frost period where Equestria focused much of its industrial efforts on constructing the Tower Generators. However, mismanagement, complications in construction and crumbling logistics, in addition to other issues, resulted in a high death toll for these construction sites.
Over half of them failed.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
CH 2 - A Day In New Canterlot
There is no such thing as a society, only a collection of ponies with their own thoughts, ideals and beliefs.
The sharp ringing of an alarm clock tore Drill Bit from his sleep, violently shaking in his sweat-drenched sheets, he quickly reached for and hit the clock’s buzzer, causing it to stop.
Taking a moment to himself, he allowed his heart rate to slow down and his nerves to settle.
“Another nightmare, I wish you were still with us princess.” He thought to himself as he leaned up.
Drill peeled off the dampened sheets of his bed and clambered to his hooves, giving his head a quick shake to rid himself of grogginess.
It was the early hours of the morning, light just about peeked through his room’s sole window, illuminating what little he had. A tight apartment with a table, a couple of chairs, a wardrobe full of clothes, his tattered bed, and a bookshelf with a variety of entries, most of them work related.
Yet as he began donning his uniform, he couldn’t help but be drawn to one item in particular sat among the paperbacks. That of an old picture frame of him and a copper orange mare, an ink message scrawled below.
“Press on Drill, for a brighter tomorrow!”
The stallion halted for a moment, before stepping forward and picking it up, pleasant memories and colourful images sprang to mind, if only to be stopped dead by the sound of a horrific scream and a crash. When the dust cleared what followed was a melancholic aftertaste, tinged with guilt as heavy as an anvil.
“Ten years later and I’m still here, If only you could’ve joined me Copper.” He placed the frame back in its spot as he resumed clothing himself, fastening layers of thick, insulative clothing over his fur with his mind bouncing between different threads of thought.
“Things used to be so simple, beautiful, colourful. Where did the love go? Where did Friendship go?”
It was a question he asked almost every day as his eyes lazily panned across his shelves as he thought to himself, until they fell upon one specifically.
Steamtech Basics, by Professor Fire Heart. The book having an emblem of a copper cog surrounding a plume of orange and red flame on its side and face.
Fire Heart, the mare that started it all.
The machines and new devices, the institutions and competitive industries, perhaps even the tensions between Equestria and Griffonia, they could all trace their origins back to that one unicorn mare. The one that had saved, and maybe damned, all of them.
Drill shelved the thought lest he go off on another mental tangent, he didn’t need that early in the day and especially not before work.
He tightened the last band around his forehoof and locked the door behind him, venturing into the cramped wood and steel corridors of the building, passing by dozens of other tenants, many crammed into the same bunks.
All things considered he was better off then most of them, being a forepony came with some benefits, like privacy, something many of his peers lacked. Even now he could hear the various family units around him trying to prepare their kids for the day ahead, and calm their cries of protest thereafter.
Eventually he made it to the front door and glanced at the thermometer beside, his eyes widening not so much with shock as surprise.
“Thirty-seven degrees? Oh it’s going to be one of those days, at least I have the extra layers.”
Taking a deep breath, Drill braced himself and stepped outside, out into the freezing cold that awaited him.
Walking outside, he was surrounded by towering buildings of concrete and steel that consistently bellowed an endless stream of dark, acrid smoke from their chimneys. Between them was a vast network of pipes and cables, interlocking webs of iron that occasionally hissed and spat. The proverbial veins of a city that led to a single, monolithic structure, its constant pumping of steam akin to the beating heart of a body, nested in the very centre of the city.
A massive, multi-story furnace who casted a shadow large enough to be used as a sundial should one view from above. A monument to modern engineering, pony resolve and the brainchild of Equestria’s brightest minds.
New Canterlot’s Tower Generator.
A thick plume of white vapour escaped his mouth, briefly obscuring his vision as he felt the cold air freeze the hair in his nostrils. The air stank of iron and soot, the pipes under the wooden road below gurgling as they fed the city with heat, and everywhere he looked he saw ponies in tattered clothes and home stitched rags, tightly wrapped scarfs and well worn boots. The best defence anypony could offer beside their chest mounted slow burners.
It was everything Drill Bit hated.
And yet he, along with everycreature else, would be dead without it.
He took another deep breath in and felt his lungs protest from the onset of bitter chill, causing a light cough as he exhaled. His stomach then grumbled and he fought to contain an annoyed groan.
“Better double time it to the cookhouse, nopony’s gonna want to stay outside for long.”
Shaking his head, Drill refocused and set off down the streets, passing through tight alleyways and low underpasses, keeping to himself as he weaved around other ponies, the movement helping fight back the growing chill.
It was a far cry from the days he’d wave a hoof to greet them, one of the little things he’d taken for granted. Obviously, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to, but as a stallion in his early forties his priorities just…changed.
A lot of things did.
This wasn’t the Equestria he’d grown up in, the Princesses were nowhere to be found. Ponykind was, at best, scattered, and friendship amounted more to a pleasant distraction to have than a building block of their culture.
So many things, so quickly. Was he just having another sad string of thoughts, or was that just his age changing his perception of time?
Whatever the case, he was interrupted when he heard the distant clangs of something large and heavy, slowly moving towards him. A thick trail of smoke moving past the rooftops before him, and mechanical thumping that prompted him to once more fight to contain a groan.
From around the corner, a huge, tall, quadrupedal mechanical walker stomped its way down the street. Its boxy body lacked any kind of head or tail. Its long, lanky legs avoiding the wooden boards and instead crashing down upon the few spots in the road paved with cobblestone. The weight of the steel giant likely snapping them like twigs otherwise.
He didn’t have time to ponder however, as soon it arose and almost struck him in the process despite his prior caution. Thankfully it didn’t but the stallion couldn’t stifle his wordless curse as he ducked.
The machine continued down the street as it had, leaving as quickly as it came.
“Bucking Automatons, at least they give plenty of warning.”
It was humbling at first, being overshadowed by such a sight, but like all things it quickly became mundane, another to add to the list of things he wasn’t fond of but had to deal with.
Shaking his head, Drill refocused and picked up the pace.
Not long after did he reach the cookhouse, but by the looks of things he’d been beaten to the punch.
Outside, a long, winding queue of ponies lined up in droves, all of them eager to fill their growling bellies as the building’s chimney struggled to banish its smoke quickly enough. Melted ice and snow slowly crawling down the oxidised copper roof.
“Oh you're kidding me, is Eastwood Cookhouse closed again?” He grumbled. After a second look Drill did notice ponies were leaving just as quick as they came. He sighed, “Whatever, maybe it won’t be too ba-”
Drill was once more interrupted, this time by the bellow of a foghorn that echoed throughout the city. Loud enough to make the stallion cringe as it blasted his ears. The horn was followed by a voice that crackled to life on well used loudspeakers.
“Up and at em’ everypony, time for work!”
Drill Bit facehooved, his stomach complaining likewise. Now he was left with a couple of options, either be late for work and hold up the entire site, or push through on an empty stomach…
Again…
The thought to quell his aching insides tempted him enough, and he likely knew what strain he’d be in for should he neglect himself.
But one look at a nearby poster reminded him of the cost of such a delay.
He didn’t like those posters, the very thought made him gag. It at least dispelled his appetite, but in doing so replaced the hunger pains with queasiness.
“Screw it, I’ve done this before, might as well do it again.”
Biting his lip, Drill Bit pushed on towards the industrial district. If it was going to be one of those days then he might as well roll with the punches. Push comes to shove, it was better to get things over with and start fresh tomorrow.
Still, he couldn’t deny it would’ve been therapeutic to voice his complaints every once and a while. Not like anyone would listen, but better than bottling them up.
He passed by several more buildings, Concrete and wood were replaced with cold steel and stone grey brick walls, and many were now adorned with red painted roofs to indicate which were a hazard to stand under. Despite their efforts, clearing every overhang of icicles was a losing battle, but steps had to be taken to avoid injuries. Especially with the current morning rush.
So many ponies were moving to and fro that even with its much wider roads, the district was still crowded. Drill had to put conscious effort into identifying which paths to take, but in the end, was able to navigate the herd.
But not before he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks.
There before him, perched atop the slanted roof of a warehouse, was an owl.
Its back was turned to the sun, making it difficult to determine any other details beyond its silhouette and its large, unblinking eyes.
Drill felt a horrible chill run up his spine and he briefly forgot to breathe. Images and ghostpains of the nightmare prior sprang to mind, he just stood there. It couldn’t have been for more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity.
He’d have likely stayed stationary had his sudden halt not seen him be swiftly bumped into by one of the workers, instinct took over and he turned to them before they quickly exchanged apologies. When he turned to look back, the owl had disappeared.
With newfound nervousness he rubbed the back of his neck and continued forward, now a little more anxious than before. Putting that in the back of his mind, he felt relief when he finally arrived outside the Ore Processing plant.
The door was unlocked, which meant Steel Beam had let everypony in early.
“Thank Celestia, it would've been pretty shameful to see everypony freezing because of me. I’ll have to thank him.”
As he opened the door and walked inside however, he quickly found yet another poster plastered over the foyer wall, right beside the card puncher.
It was hoof drawn with a few simple colours, reds, orange and blacks. Yet the image it spun was that of a group of ponies bound in chains, their heads hanging low as they walked head first into a literal meat grinder, all under the watch of a Diamond Dog pushing them in at gunpoint with a rifle.
Right below the ghastly image were the words…“We’re ponies, not livestock! Support the fight for our future!”
It may have been a good thing Drill hadn’t eaten, because the nausea from before returned as did the intrusive thoughts he’d tried to banish. Of course, hearing about something and seeing it were two different things, but the power of imagination was as horrible as it was wondrous, and he gagged at the morbid thoughts.
With haste he punched in his card and pushed through the second set of doors, which blasted him with a wave of warm air, washing him in sweet relief from the cold outside.
He was greeted by the familiar sight of the workplace, his little home away from home.
Traditionally, most of the machinery would’ve been outside where it was easy to access. But the threat of frostbite and drive for insulation saw much of it modernised and condensed, crammed into a factory-like warehouse right beside a major iron mine.
And judging by the mountains of raw minerals, they’d worked overnight again.
Oddly enough however, he didn’t see very many ponies mulling about. Usually they would’ve gotten started already if he hadn’t arrived.
Knowing what to do, Drill reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a whistle, before giving it a hard blow.
Several figures emerged from behind various stations and blocks of machinery. Among them were some familiar faces, like the ever stoic Steel Beam, but many were foreign to the forepony. He preemptively put on a smile as he prepared to greet them but when he saw the short stature of the new arrivals, his demeanour changed.
Only a hoofful of ponies where ones from his crew, the rest…were children.
Yes, children, no older than fourteen, but no younger than nine. They’d at least made a neat little line before him, either end flanked by one of his workers. When they were done Drill cranked his head toward a cream mare a decade younger than him, Soda Stream.
He gazed at her, not needing to utter a word as the mare read his mind. “Explain.”
Soda tensed up and rolled her shoulders. “Sorry Drill, the others got reallocated to Timberlane row, factory work. So they sent…” She quieted, ”replacements.”
Drill took a deep breath in as he panned between the kids. A mixture of all three races and all colts, some with forced smiles but most with nervous frowns. There were enough to fill up a classroom and greatly outnumbered the remainder of his crew.
“Yep, one of those days.”
Clearing his throat, he buried his frustrations as best he could, it was pointless crying about it now but that didn’t make it any easier. There were many things he knew he’d have to say goodbye to when the frost came, but this?
This was almost too much.
“Okay kids, my name is Drill Bit, I’m the pony in charge and that means I’m also very busy. While you're free to come to me with any concerns and questions, I do encourage you to try talking to my…” Drill turned to the workers. “Friends, they’ll be here to help you learn and work.”
The stallion then gestured for Steel and Soda to draw in close, lowering his voice but while keeping an authoritative undertone.
“Soda Stream, Steel, this is no place for children. I’ll try talking to the work office after shift, but for now, we have quotas to meet. Please try to keep them out of trouble or from hurting themselves, okay?”
Both ponies nodded their heads before leaving, likely to spread the word with the other workers. Drill’s team was down to a skeleton crew, take a leg or two, and having to wrangle a bunch of kids at the same time would no doubt strain them further.
“Bucking labour laws.”
A few hours into the shift and things hadn’t gotten any easier, Drill had managed to teach some of the kids how to do simple tasks. Things like what kinds of ore goes in what machine, how much coal needed to go into the furnace and how to alter the speed of the conveyor belts.
But for all intents and purposes he wasn’t preparing them as if they were here to stay.
No this was a band aid solution and he knew it, soon he’d get an actual workforce and things would go back to normal. It was just the current struggle of making sure nopony jumped into an ore grinder that had him on edge.
Regrettably however, he did have to make concessions with allowing some of them to watch over the machines. There just weren’t enough members of his team to cover each base, and that annoying gremlin in his belly wasn’t calming down, if anything it was getting angrier. Already he found his focus being broken up by the growls below, but he did his best to contain his temper, if only to spare the children of seeing his ugly side. Celestia knows they have enough to worry about.
The kids didn’t ask for this and the last thing they needed was to be shouted at.
He stood atop a platform glancing between the ore washer and an open-panel grinder. Which had a trio of kids steady feeding it ore from a nearby wheelcart.
The thought of them working so close to a machine that was powerful enough to turn them to paste was beyond unnerving, which may have been a good thing. It was a sign he still knew right and wrong despite the new world he lived in.
But as much as he wanted to pull them away and send them home, he knew the work office would have his job for it. Another cruel sign of the way the world had shifted.
The end of the world can change a lot of things and give new perspectives, he never would’ve guessed the sanctity of childhood could be questioned otherwise.
Organising a strike would’ve been his first thought, but he’d heard stories of how quickly those were nipped in the bud during the construction of the Tower Generator. Who’s to say he wouldn’t be replaced with somepony less concerned with their wellbeing? Or worse.
No, as heartbreaking as it was, this was better. Or the lesser of two evils anyway.
Drill soon redrew his focus and headed towards another nearby machine, it was good practice not to stay in place for too long and check in. Besides, he needed something to distract him from these damn hunger pains.
He found Steel Beam helping a group operate a set of stamp mills, pounding and crushing chunks of ore into pebbles the further along a conveyor belt they got. Each kid had a pair of goggles shielding their eyes which gave Drill Bit a smile. The kids even seemed to be enjoying it somewhat, granted it was tiring them out pulling such large weights around but it was a little thing.
“I see your taking your duty in stride Steel, is everything going well?”
The quiet stallion only responded with a subtle nod.
It wasn’t quite what he was looking for but Drill didn’t blame him, he was never the talkative type, even before this whole mess. Still, the draft pony was one of the few ponies he could confide in all these years later. Especially nowadays, sometimes having somepony who could simply listen was all one needed.
So with a more sincere undertone he asked. “Do you mind if I talk for a moment?”
Steel suddenly turned to him and sensing the air, pulled down his goggles. He nodded once more and both took a few steps away from the mill.
“Problem?”
All Drill had to do was take one glance at the kids for Steel to get his answer. “Well it’s not just that.” He turned back to Steel.
“I had a…nightmare last night. It was about a birthday I was having before the Frost and I was having a nice time. But then I saw an owl and…It was like the Great Storm all over again.”
Drill paused to gauge Steel’s reaction, the draft pony nodded as he listened and allowed him to continue.
“The reason I bring this up is…well I saw an owl on my way to work today, like the one in my dream. Then I arrive and suddenly we’re looking after a bunch of kids. I’m usually not one for superstition but I’ve heard it’s a sign of bad luck, is that right?”
Steel bobbed his head from side to side as he contemplated the question. When he spoke he was quiet, just audible enough over the growling machinery around them.
“It can go either way.”
Drill looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Well, bad luck’s one outcome, but seeing an owl during the day can also be an omen for wisdom, and changes in your life.”
“Changes?” Drill laughed, “Well if the change is to work with a crew of kids, I’m pretty sure it’s bad luck.”
Steel simply shrugged.
“I mean, what kind of world do we live in that we have to resort to…” He waved a hoof. “-this?”
“I blame the Windigos.” Steel added.
“Oh so you think the Windigos came back?” Drill chuckled, having considered such an idea but forsaken it long ago.
“Isn’t it obvious? When’s the last time you heard of the Element Bearers doing something?”
Drill paused, briefly trying to flip through his memories for anything relevant, only to come up short. “Oh, well, I’m sure they’re busy in their own ways.” He shrugged.
However, Steel continued. “Or what about that accident with Celestia?” He leaned in. “News stayed awfully vague on what happened.”
Once more Drill was at a loss, Steel might've been a quiet pony verbally, but that just gave his mind space to fill in the blanks. He had to be careful, the stallion was like a faucet. Normally things stayed dry but when it rained, it poured. And there was no telling what would come out.
From what he remembered, there was a newspaper article that had stirred up some controversy before the frost. It was a small, nearly tiny block of text tucked away a few pages deep that stated Celestia had been involved in an accident of some kind and that she was abstaining from royal duties to recover.
Maybe Steel was right to be suspicious? Maybe the Windigos did return? Maybe Celestia’s accident was more serious than the papers said? Or maybe some dark wizard out there had casted a spell. Drill Bit could ask these questions all day but unlike Steel Beam, he knew he’d never get his answer.
In the end the best he could offer was a slow huff of defeat.
Steel took it as a sign and slinked back, placing a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “Hey, you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah…yeah I will, thanks.”
As if to disprove him, Drill suddenly felt his stomach twist like a rag, trying to squeeze out whatever nutrients from last night’s dinner it may have had left. The pain so sharp it prompted him to grasp his barrel with a hoof, a vain attempt to dull the pain.
Steel bent down and looked at him in concern. “You okay?”
“I…may have skipped breakfast as well.” He smiled sheepishly.
The other stallion rolled his eyes and mirrored his smile, patting his shoulder also before gesturing for him to leave. Drill nodded and began walking away as Steel went back to work.
Not long later Drill caught sight of the kids he had working the ore grinder, but his smile vanished and his eyes shot wide the moment he laid eyes on the situation.
One of the kids, a blue pegasus, had just started screaming when Drill turned the corner.
His right wing had got stuck in the grinder, and was slowly pulling him inside…
Author's Note
New Canterlot focuses much of its labour on its heavy industry to pump out vehicles and equipment. This easily makes it one of the most industrialised cities within the Frostland with trade and household goods cast aside in favour of military strength.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Drill immediately brought his whistle up and blew, signalling a pause in shift as he leapt forward. After a brief look at the controls he shook his head, he didn’t know how to operate them and time was of the essence.
The trapped colt let out blood curdling scream after scream, tears rolled down his cheeks as he kicked and thrashed, hopelessly trying to set himself free. The upper half of his wing was already gone and the machine’s insides tinted red, along with the sound of crunching bones starting to ring out.
One of the kids ran off without a word, the other curling into a ball with his hooves over his eyes.
“Buck buck buck okay think Drill Bit, how are you gonna do this?” In less then a second several horrific images flashed through his mind, some imagined, some from memory. A crying mother and furious father, a cold, dark cell waiting to swallow him whole and a copper mare, falling to-
Drill snapped out of it and looked around, quickly spotting a sledgehammer with a big, bulky head. An idea came to mind and he retrieved it, before quickly jamming the dense steel head into the hardened teeth of the machine.
It groaned and creaked as it slowed down, unable to devourer the hammer as quickly as the colt’s bones.
Despite that, Drill could see the machine was still working, slowly the hammer’s head deformed and compressed as it too was being eaten. With the time he’d bought he moved to pull the colt away, jamming a hoof on his back with the other on the grinder’s frame.
He tugged and pushed, but even his earth pony strength couldn’t compare to the grinder's grip, and the colt was no closer to freedom. At that time Soda Stream arrived and her jaw dropped at the scene.
Drill snapped towards her. “TURN IT OFF!” He yelled.
Shaken from her stupor, the mare fumbled around with the controls as Drill heard the metallic crunching of the hammerhead. A quick glance revealed it was almost gone, and even more of the wing had been reduced to red paste.
“TURN. IT. OFF!”
“I’m trying! These controls aren’t simple!” Soda explained, furiously working the various buttons.
“Oh of course they drafted all the ponies who knew how to bucking operate it!”
Steel Beam arrived and hurried to help him. Grabbing the colt by the barrel and pulling him likewise, but to no avail. Drill released himself from the colt, try as he might, a change of tactics was needed.
Taking a step back, he looked around. Maybe there was something else he could jam into the machine? Then again, he could only buy so much time, and only so much screaming his ears could take.
He then spotted a fire axe inside a glass shielded case, eyeing up the razor sharp edge of the axeblade. In that moment his mind made a choice, a grim choice born of pragmatism, and necessity.
Bolting forward he swivelled around and delivered a swift buck as his hooves skidded across the floor, shattering the case into a thousand shards. Biting onto the axe handle and rushing back towards the boy.
The situation hadn’t gotten any better.
By now the hammerhead was gone, and the colt had all four limbs splayed out over the mouth of the mechanical beast, any moment he could get sucked in and suffer a most terrible, painful end.
It was now or never.
Drill pushed forward and raised the axe with both hooves, Steel turning to him in shock but quickly realising his strategy. One of the colt’s arms was pushed aside and with a clear point of entry…
Drill swang.
The poor colt threatened to tear out his vocal cords with how much he was suffering, his limbs gave in but Steel was right then to keep him in place. The axe slashed at his wing but stopped mid-way through, fresh blood spewing from the open bone covering the blade.
With shaky limbs and grim determination, Drill pulled the axe out and repeated the strike. This time hacking the rest of the way through, eliciting a sickening crunch as the marrow snapped.
Steel fell backwards as the colt was set free, but had little time to rest as Soda sprang forward with her scarf in hoof, ready to assist.
Drill stepped back, dropping the axe as the others tended to the injured boy, stumbling back onto his flank as he heard the rest of the wing get crushed. Staring at the trio while he came down from his adrenaline high.
The sounds of his own ragged breathing overtook all else, the warm flecks of liquid now registering across his face and the smells of real, fresh blood worming their way through his nose. Stronger than any amount of iron or copper.
He wasn’t having one of those days, he was having one of those days.
At the very least he had played his part, the boy’s wing was all wrapped up and when Steel turned to him to say something, Drill just nodded. He didn't know what was being said, he just nodded, still numb from the whole experience. The draft wasted no time and hoisted the colt onto his back before galloping out of the building, probably to the hospital.
Drill simply laid back and breathed, in and out, good air went in, and bad air went out.
Other workers soon arrived and many gasped at the unsightly scene. Soda explained the situation to them and tried to shield the other kids from seeing anything. It took time and a little help from her, but soon Drill was back on his hooves all cleaned up.
Though he certainly didn’t feel like it.
They sat opposite each other inside the break room roughly half an hour afterwards. Soda Stream poured him another glass of sparkling water, her own speciality, which Drill picked up with shaky hooves but drank all the same. No matter the mare’s effort she couldn’t get him to face her, Drill always looked down at the table or to the sides.
“Remember what I said? About this not being a place for kids?”
Soda reared her head. “Yeah?”
“Well, I wasn’t saying that for dramatic effect.”
The mare slowly nodded as she took a swig from her own cup. Some work continued inside the plant but only under strict supervision, and with many of the kids now reading through manuals and engineering books that didn’t make sense to them. If nothing else just to keep them occupied and as far away from the machines as possible.
But now he’d have to explain to the work office why there’d be such a serious backlog. A notion that made his stomach churn-
Both ponies then heard a loud growl from the bowls of Drill’s belly, the stallion wincing as it twisted into a knot.
“Sometimes I really wish we had a snack machine in here.”
Soda smiled and brought a bottle up, refilling his cup. “Yeah, and I wish I worked at the pub…I’m gonna miss that old scarf.” She pulled out a cork and jammed it into the glass bottle again before returning to him. “Still, you did a great thing Drill, I couldn’t do what you did.”
“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place…” Drill spoke slowly, the memory of the colt’s screaming still echoing in his head.
“I know, it’s difficult, but now you’ve got the perfect reason to get your old crew back, right?”
“Damn right,” Drill said before climbing from his seat. “I’ve got a call to make.”
Still mentally drained, Drill dragged himself into his office, a room with a large glass window that doubled as an observatory over the plant floor. The place was adorned with dozens of file cabinets and small objects, a notice board on one wall, a personal heater on the other, and a desk in the middle.
He wasn’t interested in any of that however.
Instead, he reached for the telephone box in the corner and dialled in a few numbers. Within seconds another pony was on the line.
“Hello, operator? Drill Bit, can you put me through to Administrator Ballpoint? Work Office.”
“One moment please.”
Drill waited impatiently, tapping a hoof on the floor as the lines switched around at a snail’s pace. Granted, it was faster than walking, but maybe some air would help clear his head?
Then again, it was freezing…though when wasn’t it freezing.
He finally heard a voice not too unlike one would expect from old Canterlot’s brass call in, it was ridden with static and Drill had to focus but it was audible. “Hello? Administrator Ballpoint.”
“Good afternoon sir, this is Forepony Drill Bit, Ironside Row Ore Processing. Listen, we’ve just had an accident involving an eleven year old, and on top of the report I have a couple questions.”
“Oh? Well, what happened?” The Administrator sounded more curious than horrified, already making Drill internally grit his teeth.
"Well, somepony had the bright idea to replace all but five of my safety standards trained crew with a pack of kids.” Drill cleared his throat. “One thing led to another and a pegasus got his wing caught in a grinder. The machinist who knew how to operate it isn't with us, so we had to amputate the poor boy’s wing before the cursed thing ate him."
There was a brief moment of quiet before Point replied. "Oh, that sounds horrible Mr. Bit, do you know where the child is now?"
"At the hospital, I've drawn back operations for the time being. Mr Ballpoint, with all due respect, an ore processing plant is no place for a minor, I'd like to request my old crew back before something else happens."
"I'm so, so sorry Mr. Bit, but I’m afraid that's not possible at this time. Maybe if you trained your new charges on those safety standards you could've avoided this?"
"Are you saying this is my fault?" Drill glared at the phone.
"I'm not saying it's anypony's fault, accidents happen, but there are ways they can be prevented and can still be prevented."
“Mr. Ballpoint, please don’t tell me you're seriously considering turning my plant into a daycare.”
“I’m doing no so such thing Mr. Bit, I can recall at least some of your previous crew, but not all of them.”
“That’s not good enough, I want these kids gone! They shouldn’t be here!” Drill exclaimed.
But Ballpoint didn’t respond, at least not immediately. There was a window of silence and for a moment Drill looked at the phone, wondering if maybe the connection had been interrupted before it spoke.
When Ballpoint responded he did so slowly, and solemnly. “I will repeat, I can recall some members of your old crew, and lessen the burden on your back, but for the time being it’s up to you to manage this.”
Drill swallowed his pride and took a deep breath. “Thank you, administrator, for future reference please warn me about these things. Today’s not been nice to me.”
“My pleasure Mr. Bit, I’ll forward the incident to the Captain and maybe he’ll consider something.”
With that, Drill placed the phone back on its holder and rubbed his temple. Sometimes he wished he’d gotten one of those cushy office jobs with the Factory Inspectorate, then he could be the one making all these decisions, alas he had no such power and slumped back into his desk chair.
“Well buck, now what?” He mumbled to himself.
By the time their shift was done Drill Bit felt exhausted. Usually, he took it as a sign of a good day’s work but that couldn’t be any further from the truth.
The screams still haunted him, that feeling of blood on his face, the stench of iron in his nose. It’d bothered him all day after and weren’t he already starving from his lack of breakfast he might not have had the stomach for dinner.
But as it stood, he couldn’t care less if it was just a thin bowl of potato and leak soup, he’d have eaten a hoofful of rocks if it settled his stomach. He didn’t even need to leave the cookhouse as the bowl was already empty by the time he reached the door.
So now with a full belly and the evening to himself, he went to the only place he could think of.
The Pipe & Hole Public House.
“Seriously, who named this place?” He thought to himself, eying the building.
It was at least a fitting name, being one of the older buildings in the city, it had many renovations to make sure it could keep up and that meant a vast, complex network of piping was strewn across its exterior. So much had been torn out and added that maybe not even the original designer could make sense of it.
The only areas that didn’t have piping were the ice-covered windows and the bright, fluorescent velvet and scarlet sign above, depicting a mare with some rather…suggestive clothing kicking back a tankard.
Were it not New Canterlot’s only place he could get a drink, Drill might’ve chosen differently.
“How much would it hurt to build a theatre? The Kirins want it, don’t they?”
Speaking of which, there was even a poster on the door advertising an upcoming show, it wasn’t for several days however so he brushed it aside and pushed through the doors, delving into a world of colour and music.
There was a haze of cigarette smoke and alcohol, tables upon tables of ponies relaxing with a few drinks after another day’s labour. From soot-ridden coal miners to off-duty watchponies, to the greenhooves of the farmers and the tired bodies of construction workers.
All of them were dimly lit by the lights above, reserved for the stage in the very back where a snow white mare with pink and purple curls stood, singing to the gentle tune of a band behind her with the voice of an angel.
Drill briefly smiled as he walked inside, already invited by the warm atmosphere and sat down by the bar.
It didn’t take long for a barkeep to approach him and when she did his head was hung low. “Rough day?” She asked.
“More than you think, something hard please.”
The purple mare smiled as she drew a cup, but as she did so Drill got full view of her leg, it was covered in several riveted leather sleeves which ended in a metallic imitation of a hoof.
Between the joints where the sleeves didn’t cover, Drill could see the machinations of machinery underneath. a network of pipes, pulleys and pistons. The workings of an artificial limb.
The ageing stallion turned his head away as she served him a cup of moonshine, he grabbed it and stared into the foggy concoction, wondering if it would wash away his woes. Even now he could still hear the colt’s banshee shrieks through his mind, the sickening crunches of bone and sinew....
He needed this.
Rearing his head back, Drill took half of it in one gulp and shook his head, coughing slightly.
“Thanks Berry, you don’t know the kind of day I’ve had.”
“It can always get worse.” She added.
The corner of Drill’s mouth raised into the ghost of a smirk. “I dunno, mine was pretty bad.”
“Well, was it-” Berry propped her chin up with her artificial leg, leaning towards him “-this bad?”
“In a way…”
Berry’s smile waned as a dawn of realisation struck her. “Oh sweet martini, that accident was at your place?”
“W-wait, how’d you know?” He said, looking up at her.
“Word travels fast, especially when everypony sees a certain steel grey stallion rush through town in broad daylight.” She explained.
With a grumble, drill rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment plain as day over his face. “Right, should’ve known.”
“You know, If your drinking to bury that kind of stuff, it’s not gonna work.” Berry continued, pointing a hoof at him.
“I know but…it helps.”
“It does, but don’t depend on it like I did.”
Drill’s prior embarrassment turned to guilt as his memory flashed with vivid sights and sounds, the feeling of blood on his face and the weight of that dreaded axe.
“I just…I can’t get it out of my head, the sights, the sounds, and it all happened so quickly.” Drill let his chin sink and rest on the bar table, barely able to hold himself up.
“What did you do?”
He paused for a moment, hesitation hardening the tip of his tongue. But a gulp of the remaining liquor loosened his lips. “Everything I could think of, until I saw the fire axe…”
Berry stared at him for several seconds before connecting the dots and widening her eyes. She began refilling Drill’s cup, prompting him to look up in surprise.
“Double booze ration?”
“You’ve had a bad day, you deserve this.” She said, pulling the bottle away.
Drill nodded and kept his cup close, taking small sips instead of the big gulps he had prior.
But that was when a familiar voice called out to him from within the crowd. “Hey Drill Bit!” He heard, shortly after a scarlet and lapis unicorn jumped onto the chair next to him with a spin wearing a smile.
For all his energy, Drill only met him with a sluggish reply. “Ah, hello Toy Chest.”
“Nice to see you two!” He exclaimed, before turning to Berryshine. “Hey Berry, have any more smoothies kicking about?”
“Only raspberry I’m afraid, Bloom’s been cutting down on berries in general recently. I think the girl’s trying to grow more veggies.”
Toy’s head and ears drooped like a deflated balloon, “Aw…”
“Oh you big colt.” Berry laughed. “You know what? I do have one thing.” Shen then pulled out a labelless bottle with an orange band of cloth and popped its cork, pouring its contents into a tankard.
Toy gave it a sniff and stared awestruck as he was gifted the drink. “No way,” he gasped. “Buck's Fizz? Where’d you get this?”
“It’s homemade, might not be very many berries left but there’s still plenty of oranges.”
“Thanks Berry!” Toy then eagerly drank from the tankard, leaving a foamy moustache when he drew back for air. Wiping it off he turned to Drill Bit with his childlike grin. “So Drill, what have you been up to, anything exciting?!”
The stallion cringed as he was abruptly reminded of the day’s events, it seemed it didn’t matter how much he tried, it kept creeping up on him. “Not…really…”
“You're sure? I heard something big happened, finally found a diamond in all that rock?”
Drill let out a deep sigh, he knew Toy Chest meant well but sometimes that naivety really annoyed him. “Suppose there’s no beating around it.”
He turned to look Chest dead on and spoke quietly, barely enough to be heard over the bar’s background chatter. “There was an accident involving a machine and I had to cut a colt’s wing off.”
And immediately after he thrusted a hoof forward to cover Toy’s mouth, lest he scream and draw attention to them. A move that seemed warranted as the toy maker’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and barely a squeak came out before Drill moved in.
Berry meanwhile had to fight to contain her laughter.
After a few moments, Drill let go and the two stared at each other, unamused while Toy grimaced.
“D-Drill Bit…w-what? How? What happened?”
“Most of my workforce got pulled into factory work and I was given a pack of children as replacements…inside an ore processing plant.”
A painfully long moment of silence passed before Toy Chest responded, his voice comparable to Drill’s. “Oh…oh that’s horrible.”
“Yep…”
Drill turned back around and hunched over the counter, taking another sip from his drink. Berry met him whilst cleaning a glass and glanced at Toy’s increasingly concerned face.
“You're actually a hero, Drill Bit, you saved that kid’s life.” She commented.
“I don’t feel like it.” He replied. “I feel…dirty almost.”
“Well, can’t you do anything about it?” Toy asked, looking concerned for his friend.
“I don’t know, I tried but the child labour laws in this town are bucked up, he wouldn’t have lost his wing if I still had my old crew. And I’m stuck with these kids for the foreseeable future, so who knows what’ll happen next.”
“Well…why don’t you try starting a petition? If it gains enough traction then maybe the captain will rethink the laws?”
Drill stopped himself short of scoffing, it was the kind of naive, optimistic thing he’d come to know from Toy Chest and he was only a word away from dismissing it. But something in his head clicked and he heard the echo of a voice long passed.
“Press on Drill Bit! For a brighter tomorrow!”
The stallion’s eyes lit up and a new kind of energy filled his body. A spark that led to a flame as an epiphany ran through his mind. “Actually…you might be right, maybe I could.”
“Well you best think of a compromise,” Said Berry. “I doubt he’d be keen to repeal it entirely.”
“Yeah, and Iron Might can be pretty stubborn.” Toy added.
“How about we start with the dangerous jobs? Coal mines, Mills, Ore Plants.”
Berry noticed a small witty grin appear on Drill’s face, it wasn’t much but it was enough and she joined in. “Well you’d better be ready, I’ve found you need to give something up to get what you want.”
Drill turned to her and thought about it, it was the right thing to do and he knew it, but something told him it wouldn’t be as easy as getting a few signatures and passing it on.
But the events of that day had left a mark on him, if the guilt was bad now there was no telling what was next. It only served to fuel his resolve further however and stoke the fire in his heart.
So with a deep breath, he answered. “I think I can handle it.”
Berry smiled and pulled out a pen and paper from under her counter, before gesturing to the ponies in the pub.
“Go nuts sugerplum.”
Author's Note
While amenities are few in New Canterlot, every creature of age is entitled to a cup of moonshine after a hard day's work.
With how popular smoking was before The Frost there was a demand for tobacco to return, but growing such within the Hothouses was out of the question. So many tried growing their own more questionable herbal remedies, to varying degrees of success.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Dear Captain Iron Might, after an accident where a young colt lost their wing due to a machine, I, Forepony Drill Bit of Ironside Row Ore Processing, kindly ask that the child labour laws be revised and that children are no longer expected to work inside these dangerous places. Mines, Steel Mills, Processing Plants and Factories are among the jobs I believe are too dangerous for minors to work.
I don’t just speak for myself, alongside this you’ll also find a list of ponies who agree and support this movement. Please take the time to think about this and listen to the conscience of not just me, but all those who believe in the sanctity of childhood.
Thank you.
Drill Bit looked over the hoof drawn petition for perhaps the twelfth time that day, scrutinising his hoofwork. Already the back of the page was filled with names, soon he’d have to clip more pages onto the document but for the moment he was satisfied.
It was getting late and darkness had descended upon the city streets, now illuminated by lamplight and the occasional overnight shift.
While the town was no doubt quieter, there were still some ponies walking the wooden roads, either going home after extended shifts or performing some late-night activity.
It was this downtime Drill had hoped to take advantage of before hitting the bunks himself.
He spotted another wandering soul and repeated the routine. “Hello, I’m trying to get kids out of the factories, would you like to help by signing this petition?”
The wood-brown earth pony turned to him revealing the other half of his face and when he did Drill’s skeleton almost jumped out of his skin. His cheek was covered in burn scars yet he seemed no more bothered by it.
“Oh? Sure thing.” He took the pen and like so many others before, wrote his name on the back.
Tree Stump
“Thank you!” Drill shook off his prior fear, happy to get another signature.
The pony left and Drill took in a deep breath. “Let’s hope that was the most scared I’m going to get tonight.”
But as Drill began the walk home, he suddenly stumbled when his hooves caught a depression in the road and his saddlebag flew out onto the side. Quietly cursing, he picked himself up and reached for his bag, checking to see if anything had gotten wet or was damaged.
As he did so, a dark shadow suddenly cast over him, cut out from the street lamp above it loomed. Drill went stiff and slowly turned to face whoever was there which was difficult with the light in his eyes.
When his eyes adjusted he saw the huge, wide-shouldered form of a Diamond Dog twice his height in a thick winter coat look down at him. Short snorted with grey fur and a pair of purple-tinted reading glasses sitting upon his muzzle.
Drill froze in place as the instincts of a prey animal momentarily kicked in, but the Diamidian remained equally as still, only tilting his head in curiosity.
“You alright there?” He asked, his voice wasn’t nearly as deep as he was expecting which in tandem with the question, caught Drill off guard.
With a shake of his head, the stallion snapped back to reality and hastily replied. “I-I’m…fine, just tripped.”
The Greyhound offered a friendly smile and extended a hand, which Drill took before also re-fastening his bags. It was weird, Drill felt conflicted about how to feel about the Diamidian. All the stories he’d heard and posters around the city had painted a very different picture.
“Funny, haven’t seen any Diamidians in New Canterlot before.”
“Figures, I’m the only one they let out of the Doghouse.”
Drill squinted his eyes at that. “Doghouse?”
The diamond dog pointed his finger in the direction behind him.
“Little outpost they got outta town mining coal, call it trust issues.”
“Right, you know, come to think of it, I never did think about where all the Dogs we captured went after rescuing the Kirins.”
“Well now ya do, what are yer doin out here anyway? It’s late.”
Drill’s eyes went wide and he glanced at his bag. “Oh, I’m collecting signatures for a petition, trying to redo the labour laws and get kids out of factories.”
“I’m sorry what?” The Diamidian stared at him, Drill took his queue and pulled out the petition for him to read. After a moment he pulled out his own pen and quickly wrote his name on the back.
Cazrel Manx
Drill looked at the name before turning back to him with a smile. “Thanks Cazrel, have to say you have remarkably good writing, mine’s still somewhat scruffy.”
“Yeah well I was a pen pusher, then when I saw what Queen Eudora was up to and threatened to expose her royal ass, I got conscripted. On that note I’d better warn ya, this shit can get ya in trouble.”
“W-wait it can?!” He exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Yeah, had to get real familiar with the laws before they let me in. “Anti-social behaviour” apparently, and trust me you do not want to wind up in New Cantermore prison, it’ll be the worst three days of yer life.”
A shudder blew through Drill’s body as his mind raced with intrusive memories, of letters to loved ones and the worst of news, an order from up high and an inkwell to his side…
Nevermind the stories of what went on within the prison itself, sure he’d heard the tales of those who’d walked away beaten and bloody. But the worst punishments the city could offer paled in comparison to the torment it has offered, should those ghosts be allowed to haunt him once more.
No, he had to do this, he had to make things right.
“Well, what do I do? I can’t just let children get minced by the machines!”
“Try taking an office job, put yourself somewhere yer voice can’t be easily ignored. If yer make yourself valuable then whoever’s in charge won’t be so keen on losing yer. It worked for me…” Cazrel’s voice then dropped. “-for a while…”
Drill looked down at the petition with a grimace, of course, such a law would only be noticed by some creature privy to paperwork. What kind of world was he living in that such a clamp on freedom of speech was not just being used, but was thought needed?
It was madness, but as he stared at the paper he remembered the screams, the crying and the shouting. The echoes of a banshee replaying in his head.
No, he had to do this.
The fire inside burned brighter still and he looked up at the Diamidian. “Thank you Manx, I’ll…see what I can do.”
“Good luck, and be careful of the other dogs...” The dog slowly walked past Drill, before turning around and giving him one last glance.
“...They ain’t all nice.”
The following day Drill Bit was extra vigilant, just like Inkwell promised he’d gotten a hoofful of workers back which meant fewer kids to worry about, now the crew were split half between adult and child workers and if Drill Bit could help it, that number would only go down.
He’d organised them into pairs and that seemed to do the trick, with the kids learning from whoever they were assigned to and being given helpful advice. More importantly, he made sure no child was ever without an adult keeping an eye on them at all times.
For Drill however it still wasn’t enough, all throughout the shift a weight had pressed against his back. He found himself walking aimlessly keeping an eye out if only to distract from the deeds he’d done.
But it wasn’t just that, on his way to work he felt as though everypony was watching him. There was no doubt word about the accident and the petition were spreading but there was no telling who actually knew, if what Cazrel had said was true it wouldn’t be long before City Watch came knocking.
He’d seen them, patrols of guards in their crimson red and black garbs armed with batons and pistols. It was a sight that always left him on edge.
They’d been established to maintain order and keep ponies safe, but now he was viewing them with a very different eye. He was wary of them, worried at any moment a patrol would walk in through those doors asking for his name.
Yet at no point during his shift did they arrive, either he’d not garnered enough attention or perhaps they didn’t care? Maybe there was some crazy lunatic on the loose and they’d come for him another day? Or perhaps, they didn’t consider his actions enough of a concern to respond. Either way, as the clock struck six and the whistles blew he felt little in the way of relief.
This guilt was eating him and this paranoid stress was only accelerating it. Drill knew he had to do something, the petition was a good start but it wasn’t what he was looking for, he needed vindication.
So that evening as the sun set and the world dimmed, he went on a walk to the hospital.
The building was huge and spanned around three stories and was the length of a grand cathedral, its steel panel walls were covered in blue paint with the occasional medical insignia inscribed on frozen banners. There were balconies built on the upper floors acting as entrances for ambulance carts drawn by pegasi and even a smaller area beside it built as an elderly care home.
It might’ve paled in comparison to what they had before the Great Storm, but it was reassuring to know the city still had some decent medical care.
Walking through the doors, he walked up to the receptionist before clearing his throat.
“Excuse me, my name is Drill Bit and I’d like to visit somepony. A blue pegasus colt, lost his wing a couple of days ago.”
The receptionist pulled up her half-rimmed glasses before looking up at him and answering in an unexpectedly deep voice. “Are you family?” She croaked.
“No”
The deck worker grabbed a clipboard before checking through a list of names and writing a few things down. “Ward seven, second floor.”
Drill nodded before proceeding through the building, it was a series of wide halls and wooden doors connecting a long room with several ceiling-mounted curtains. He could hear the occasional beep of a heart monitor and see patients being helped along by doctors and nurses. Many of which with stitches, bandages and even stumps in place of limbs.
At the very least the smells of copper and machinery drowned out anything else that might’ve assaulted his senses.
But that was where the good news stopped as he soon saw the familiar colt, lying in a bed several sizes too big for him reading through an astrology book. His night sky purple mane was dotted with specks of white similar to the freckles that adorned his face. There was a bandaged stump where his other wing previously laid, a grim reminder of events past.
Taking a deep breath Drill marched forward, trying to fortify himself as best he could and quickly saw the colt’s name on a bed-mounted clipboard.
“Comet Trail?” He asked.
The colt laid the book down and upon reaching eye contact with Drill visibly winced, eyes going wide with fear as he slinked back into the bed. Drill already felt tinges of guilt stab into him, like a hot knife into his back.
He raised a hoof. “Now Comet-”
“P-please don’t take my other wing!”
“I’m not going to do that!” Drill assured him. “In fact I wanna apologize.”
Comet Trail paused, while he still held the bedsheets close by he at least maintained eye contact with the repentant earth pony.
Seeing no further interruption, Drill continued, “Comet I’m-” but felt his throat burn as he choked on his words, “I’m sorry about what happened, I’m so, so sorry. I was put in a difficult situation, I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn't want anypony getting hurt.”
His words tumbled, Drill felt like nothing he said, be it ten words or ten thousand, could ever convey the guilt he felt at that moment. Thus, the most he could manage were the easiest words to say.
“I’m sorry.”
There was a long moment of silence as Drill’s apology hung in the air, but soon the colt’s stare turned into a glare as his expression hardened. Drill expected some animosity but even he might not’ve been prepared for what Comet said next.
“Bullies say that to get out of trouble, how do I know you're being honest?”
Drill paused, taken aback by the question. “Uhm, well…Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
“Give me my wing back!” He demanded.
“Comet, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Then leave me alone! I’m no shooting star anymore!”
Drill took a step back, not expecting the colt to reply so venomously and anxiously looked around for anypony staring at him. There were a few onlookers taking notice but nopony advanced on him. With another deep breath, he turned back to Comet. “Do you have parents? Friends? Are they around?”
“What do you think?” He spat.
Drill looked down at the clipboard and searched for more names, only to find the plates where relatives would be listed blank. The residence?
“Valley Row Orphanage.”
A stone lodged itself into Drill’s throat and his stomach sank into his hooves. “Oh this colt, this poor, poor colt.”
Thinking back, it made sense. Orphans lacked any sufficient caregivers, thus it was easier to push them into dangerous work conditions. It also explained why he didn’t have any angry parents or relatives coming for his throat after what happened, though that brought him no comfort.
The weight pressing on his back now felt fit to break him if he didn’t leave immediately, he wanted to say something, anything to earn hive forgiveness. But his mind played out the conversation for him.
“I saved your life Comet, I was trying to do the right thing!”
“The only thing you did was prolong my suffering!”
Even if that wasn’t really what he’d say, Drill knew better than to linger and hastily left with his head hanging low.
What he didn’t see however was the semi-guilty look on Comet’s face as he passed through the doors.
“He’s just a kid Drill Bit, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You can make things better, you can make them right.”
Over an hour had passed since leaving the hospital and Drill had wasted none of it. He collected signatures in the streets, at the cookhouse, and most recently the pub. He wasn’t sure how many he’d need but the more the merrier and by now, he had filled up a half dozen or so pages on both faces.
He craned his neck and looked over his shoulder.
Since then he’d received more warnings and blessings alike, but they didn’t matter. What mattered was making things right, he was going to get these signatures, give them over to Iron Might…somehow, and from there hopefully, maybe his consciousness would be allowed to rest.
He turned and looked again, was he paranoid? Was it stress? Or was something watching him?
Maybe he could make it up to Comet somehow? Did prosthetics for wings exist? Technology had advanced leaps and bounds in the past decade but he’d never kept pace, it never interested him beyond the necessities of his work.
He whipped around one more time, just to be sure he wasn’t being tailed.
What was going to stand in his way? How many ponies knew about what happened? Sure he left out the part where he amputated the boy’s wing, but there’d be those in the know, word can travel quickly in New Canterlot and there were witnesses.
Scratch that, what about the guards? How close were they to catching him and if they did would they let him off with a warning? Throw him into prison or worse? Their watch towers and stations were everywhere in New Canterlot, you couldn’t walk past a hoofful of buildings before catching sight of one. Even now their searchlights illuminated the city rooftops, a security measure that’d only annoyed him until now.
His mind raced with all these questions and more, was this how Steel Beam’s thought process worked? The draft was never really talkative…until he was.
However, all of this and more came to a screeching halt as Drill Bit returned home. His jaw dropped and his blood ran cold, because sitting atop his apartment with its back against the full moon…
Was an owl…
Author's Note
New Canterlot's medical policy focuses on faster recovery methods that may risk worsening a patient's condition, as opposed to using resources for a longer-term but safer strategy.
While initially, this created a small minority of disabled with missing limbs. Simple prosthetics such as artificial legs and organs have since seen them return to work.
Replacements for wings or horns have yet to be created within the city.
The motion of the limbs is assured by small motors, which can be recharged via the internal springs that can be wound up by locking the joint and then using an internal turn key that can be revealed and unfolded then cranked in the appropriate areas.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Everywhere he looked, darkness surrounded Drill Bit, or at least some kind of darkness. He found himself on a flat plain with an endless horizon, dimly lit by a cracked, crescent object at the very edge. And it seemed even here he couldn’t escape the endless snow as white petals of pure light gently rained down around him. At the very least there was no chill, but also no warmth.
Drill took a step forward and found his hooves causing ripples in the ground beneath, despite there being no water.
“Hello?” He called out, his voice echoing for seemingly miles.
It was a vain gesture and he knew as much, so with a sigh he sat back down and looked around him.
“Is this it? Did I actually kick the bucket?”
“Not quite.”
Drill immediately snapped his head around to where the voice came from, it had an Appaloosan tinge to it and when he saw her, his heart skipped.
Standing not far from her was an ethereal mare with a dirty copper orange coat and rust ridden red mane. It quickly became apparent she was some kind of spectre as most of her features were blurry at best, her face was devoid of a mouth or nose, her eyes lacked pupils and her cutie mark was little more than a mass of distorted colours. Even her voice had a distorted edge to it, almost like radio static.
Yet most disturbing of all were the things sticking out of her body. Pipes, shards of wooden boards and other pieces of scrap metal were going through her body like she was some kind of pony pincushion. It was to the point she was unable to bend her limbs which dangled in the air, much like her.
Drill stared at her awestruck, already on his hooves with one reared to his chest. “W-Who are you?”
The mare looked at him unamused, but raised an eye with a snarky tone. “Oh come on DB, don’t tell me you’d forgotten already.”
It took several moments, but the more he stared at her, the more bells began ringing in his head. Until at last he came upon a name.
“C-Copper? Is that you?” His voice trembled.
The mare rolled her eyes and refocused. “Oh golly gee junior, what could’ve possibly given it away?”
Drill cringed as a burning wave of emotion kicked up from within, memories came flooding back and he took a step forward, trying to hold back a tide of tears. “Copper I…I’m so, so sorry for what happened, I didn’t thin-”
Before Drill could continue, Copper flew forward and jammed a ghostly hoof over his mouth. “Oh you crackerjack, ah know ya didn’t mean no harm. Things just got outta control, still, not bein’ able to walk is kinda annoyin.”
He tried moving the hoof away only for his to go straight through, only now realising she couldn’t actually stop him from speaking. “So you forgive me?”
“Oh gosh Drill of course ah do! Ya need to learn to lighten’ up, it’s sad to see you drag yourself through life rather than walk. Specially over an accident of all things.”
The stallion stared at her for several seconds, the weight of an invisible anvil seemed to lift off his shoulders and his mind raced with new clarity. The bags under his eyes now were not quite as heavy and slowly, surely, a smile graced the corners of his cheeks.
He gave a slight chuckle as he turned to her. “You were always more lively then me, but that should fix itself now we’re together again, right?”
“About that…you’re not actually dead, Drill.”
His eyes widened at that. “W-Wait, if I’m not actually dead then how are you speaking to me? Where am I?”
“Look around Sunshine, where do ya think you are?”
Drill did as instructed but truth be told there wasn’t much to look at, it was certainly surreal but it wasn’t what he expected the afterlife to look like. Then again, he didn’t know what to expect, there was one thing in particular that drew his attention and that was the half crescent object just above the horizon.
It was visibly cracked and its bright white glow dimmed every now and then. If he focused then he could pick out small grey spots over it, almost like…
“Is that the moon!? Am I dreaming?” He shot back at her.
“I don’t know, if ya are then somethin’s gone real wrong with Luna.” Copper then began floating around him, careful not to rub any of the protruding objects against his form. “To be honest I’m not sure, ah don’t have all the answers an’ even I don’ know how I’m talking with ya. All I know for certain is it’s not time for you yet, and it won’t be for a while.”
Drill looked up to her, welling up with emotion as the two locked eyes. “But…but…I, I want to be with you! Do you know how much I’ve missed you?!” He cried, no longer able to hold himself back.
“I hate this place, I hate everything about it! The noise, the smoke, everything! Ever since you left things have only gotten worse.”
Copper stopped in front of him and cupped her hooves below Drill’s chin, trying to comfort him despite her inability to touch. “Oh ah know Drill, ah know and ah do to, but as hard as it is, you still have ponies countin’ on ya. Remember Steel? Toy Chest? What about that kid Comet?”
For a moment, Drill could also see the ghostly faces of all the ponies mentioned standing right behind Copper.
“Ya can’t just leave em’ behind in a world like this, that ain’t right.”
“I…” He struggled, “I know, but I miss you, I miss the green grass and summer skies, I miss our little thatch cottage, I just…I can’t do this anymore.”
“Oh sunshine, ah wish I could be there for ya, tell ya things are gonna be alright, but ah can’t. It’s up ta you to pull this wagon now, but ah want ya to know you’ve been the kindest, most hardworking pony I’ve ever met.”
Tears streamed down Drill’s face as Copper’s words sank in, quietly whimpering in her hooves.
“You’re strong Drill Bit, stronger than you realise, ya might hide it with a coat of grit but you’ve got yourself the biggest heart o’ gold, and nopony is ever gonna take that away.”
Despite the warm words, Drill’s eyes continued to leak as he struggled to stay strong.
“But…this city, it locked me up! I was only doing the right thing! Is that such a hard thing to ask for? Why try to be better when no one wants you to be?”
Copper’s eyes softened with sorrow, knowing all that Drill had endured thus far.
“Ah know these things are hard sunshine, but ya don’t do these things because they’re hard, do ya?”
Drill slowed down, trying to regain control of his hampered breathing. “No…I don’t.”
“Now say it with me, it’s because-”
“They’re worth doin’.”
Both spoke at the same time and Copper chuckled, bringing Drill close and placing their foreheads together, which brought the poor pony a feeling of soothing relief.
“That a boy, now tell me, what are ya gonna do after ya get outta jail?”
“I-I…”
Copper began nodding her head, pushing him along. The stallion trembled upon his words.
“I’m…I’m gonna set myself straight.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And…I’ll make things right, I will make things right…somehow.”
“Good, very good, you got this Drill, ah know ya do.”
“...T-Thank you.” He squeaked.
“Now go out there and show em what ya made of, and remember, press on, for a brighter tomorrow.”
“I Will Copper, I won’t let you down.”
With that, the two bumped each other’s heads together best they could without one phasing through the other, and the darkness that surrounded them swallowed them whole.
The distaint bellow of a fog horn followed by several loud bangs woke Drill from his slumber, his body stiff and numb as it lay on the concrete floor. He barely had time to gather himself before the guard slid open the viewport to address him.
“Hey, old yella?”
Drill coughed as he tried getting up, his limbs feeling more like a set of wooden stilts. At last however it had seemed he was afforded some decent rest, much to the protest of his body.
Nothing felt right, his midsection screamed at him for something to eat, pins and needles racked his body from the cold and his head felt more akin to a lead weight.
But there was something else, something that ignited in the ageing stallion. It came to him in pieces, images and flashes of some otherworldly conversation, words spoken by somepony familiar yet foreign. All of it came together when his mind echoed those fateful words.
“Press on Drill Bit, for a brighter tomorrow!”
Suddenly he felt reinvigorated and climbed to his hooves just as the guard opened the door, a fire within him burning brightly. Whether it was primal drive or force of will he cared not, for while his body cringed he stood strong.
The coal black unicorn walked inside, appearing more concerned for him then the others had, he even pulled out a small bar of oats for him which Drill gently took.
He also took note of the nametag on his chest, PFC Smoke Stack. Could only guess it was something he added as every other guard he’d seen never had such a feature.
“Your time here’s up, your clothes and a bowl of hot soup’s waiting for you at the reception.”
“Thanks,” said Drill, having swallowed a mouthful.
As he took his first step however Drill fumbled and nearly tripped, narrowly caught by the other pony. Despite his bravado, moving around was something his body didn’t like the sound of right now. But with some help from the guard they made their way back to the entrance.
Warm clothes, a hot meal and a few minutes by the heater reminded him what exactly being warm felt like. Though at least twice he had to take care not to burn himself against the metal, otherwise he could’ve well hugged the thing.
He was still tired, still hungry, still felt ready to collapse somewhere and call it a night, but at least now he could choose when he collapsed.
But as he finished his meal and headed for the doors, Smoke Stack stopped him once more.
“Hey! Mr. Drill?”
The stallion turned to him, bags the size of travel cases under his eyes.
“So you’ll be happy to hear you have the day off work tomorrow to recover, but after that it’s back to usual grind.”
Drill Bit sighed as he stared at him. “I was only doing what was right.”
“I know, trust me, I know.” Smoke then reached into a pocket and pulled out a bundle of paper, it didn’t immediately register to Drill until a moment after it had been inserted into his coat pocket that it was money, golden script to be exact, which caught him by surprise.
“Gold Script? As a gift? Are you aware how valuable this is?” After the world froze over, gold had become much harder to come by compared to when it was their only currency. Having even a small amount these days was a pretty big deal.
“Consider it compensation!” Smoke exclaimed. “Again, I’m truly sorry for what happened.”
Drill stood stunned as he patted his pocket, but his wide eyed expression narrowed as he looked up at the guard. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because it’s my job?” He smiled.
Yet Drill’s suspicion wasn’t quelled, but not wanting to cause an issue he turned to the door and pushed outside.
A wave of icy air washed over him as he walked out the gates, the night sky having already swallowed the sun. It was as if no time at all had passed between his arrival and departure here, yet even with the metaphoric ice bucket that had been poured over him, he felt no more awake.
His steps were sluggish, his eyes fighting to stay open and were it not for the many street lamps he would’ve tripped over the first depression in the road.
Part of him feared he might simply collapse in the snow and freeze to death.
Seeing this, Smoke Stack turned to a couple of guards at the entrance, a few words and a quick nod and Drill suddenly found the young adult by his side.
“Uhm, what are you doing?” He asked.
“Escorting you, a weary stallion going home in the middle of the night? With Diamond Dogs around? I just wanna make sure. Wouldn’t exactly sit right if I let you go only for you to never make it back.”
“Oh, why thank you.” Drill said, trying to hide an inquisitive glance.
With a slow but careful pace the two made their way through the city, winding around building after building, street corner after street corner. But as they did so Drill’s curiosity only grew, until at last when they reached the road that led to his apartment block he turned to him.
“You know something, don’t you?”
Smoke Stack stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him, his attempt to hide his sheepishness went in vain to the experienced forepony.
“I-I just wanna help.”
Drill continued to glare at him, careful to keep their voices low.
With a sigh the guard conceded. “Okay, yes…who do you think handled the evidence?” Drill’s eyes widened as Smoke looked away. “I read the whole thing.”
“Where is it now?”
“Gone, ash…I’m sorry about what happened. For what it’s worth, I’m glad to know somepony out there cares enough to try.”
The two stood in place for a moment as the pieces clicked into place for Drill Bit, Smoke Stack avoiding his gaze in shame.
“This isn’t the first time, is it?”
“No,” Smoke replied, “It happens more than you think.”
Drill stared at him with a knowing look, memories of similar actions invading his mind, those of letters and screams, ink and blood .
“It’s alright, you don’t build a Generator without breaking a few eggs…”
“Huh?” Smoke turned to him in confusion.
Before he could follow up Drill closed the door behind him and power walked back to his apartment, memory of the building guiding his step.
“I’m a good pony, I have good intentions, but the world can be such a horrible place. And you can’t survive on good intentions alone.”
In little time at all he found his door and stormed into his room, plunging headfirst into his bed uncaring that he was still clothed.
He did eventually get to his bed in the end.
Just a lot more tired than he thought.
Author's Note
After the Great Storm, many began having nightmares and uncontrolled dreams, leading to the belief the princess of the night did not survive the Storm.
Yet very rarely, those with lucid dreams can hear distant screams...
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
The following morning had seen Drill sleep in far past his usual waking hour, and demolishing the vegetable bowl he received for breakfast.
Who could blame him? After the ordeal at the prison he would’ve eaten wild grass and flowers if there were any. As it stood though the stallion was busy taking full advantage of his day off, and that meant cleaning himself up.
Which naturally led him to one of the city bathhouses.
It was a dome like building with a large external boiler that had its own cabin, with the pipes running between the two big enough to crush a pony. Upon entry Drill was hit by a wave of pleasingly hot, humid air that sent him right back a decade or two to an indoor swimming pool.
The first place he went to was the laundrette, where he found several tables of ponies (and in some cases kirins) sorting through mountains of clothing. Putting them through a series of machines that did all the washing and drying for them, the kirins would then put on some kind of horseshoe with a strap and flat metal edge and use their powers to heat it up, flattening the creases.
Drill didn’t realise it but a smile had crept across his face as he disrobed himself, giving his clothes over to the staff to be washed.
Part of him shuddered at considering how dirty said clothes were given the previous day.
Next he went to the bathrooms and found the place surprisingly empty. It was a hall full of differently sized tubs with many of them unfilled, likely waiting until the work day ended.
But he still managed to find one he could creep into and tested the waters slowly. He could feel the steam wafting off the water before he’d even entered and when he did, it was like he could feel himself melting, his limbs relaxing as his head rested on the edge.
“Oh I needed this! I should’ve come here more often, how long are they open for?”
Drill relaxed and began scrubbing himself as best he could with a nearby brush, bit by bit colour returned to his coat and pieces of grime fell off in droves, even if there were only so many places he could reach. it was almost a shame he had to leave the dirtied waters afterwards, he could’ve used an extra five, maybe ten minutes of bliss.
After he dried himself off there was one last place he wanted to go to complete his little tour.
Funny enough he’d never been to a spa in his life, sure he’d heard of them but for one reason or another never got around to it.
“Better late than never, right?”
Drill Bit pushed through the double doors and into a room full of long spa beds covered with blankets. The pleasant smell of lavender caught his nose and he turned to the sole occupant of the room.
She was a kirin with a mustard coat and brown mane, with emerald scales that covered her back and ran the length above her muzzle.
She quickly spun around to meet Drill with a smile. “Oh! Good afternoon, sorry, I wasn’t expecting anycreature here right now.”
“It’s fine,” Drill replied, “As rare as it is, someponies get days off.” He then rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the room. “Do you mind uhm…helping me out? I’ve never been to a spa before.”
“Oh of course! Please, lay down.” She gestured towards one of the beds, which Drill laid down upon. “And please call me Ember Glow.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Ember, I’m Drill.”
Ember nodded before taking her place beside the proned stallion. “So, this is your first time?”
“Indeed it is.”
“Okay, how do you feel starting with Moxibustion?”
Drill looked at her curiously. “Uh, I’m not exactly sure. Mind explaining? First time and everything.”
“Oh it’s simple, I just heat up parts of your body to help you relax as I work.” As she said that, Ember flicked one of her hooves and a plume of dark flame sprang off its center.
Drill’s eyes went wide as he gazed at her, “Uhm…”
“Oh don’t worry!” She assured him, before pulling out a thin sheet of fabric. “This should protect you, I’ve done this many times.”
Drill was a little hesitant, especially at the should part of that sentence, but shrugged. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to trust you!”
Ember giggled before laying the sheet over him and starting her work, engulfing her hooves in a thin layer of flame before digging them into Drill’s joints.
As somecreature not used to messages or spa treatments, it took an embarrassing amount of effort to stay still from the sudden shots of pain, an entire photobook could’ve been filled just with the various faces Drill made whilst the kirin worked. It was worth it though, ironing out all the knots in his body sent shivers up his spine, and her warming touch made it all the better.
“My my you were locked up! I’ve never met a pony so stiff before.”
“You could -ugh- say that again!” Drill laughed, still a little hazy from the treatment.
“If I may ask, what brought you here? If you never chose before, why now?”
“Oh well I’d -eck!- just had a bath and -agh- thought I’d give it a try.” He nervously answered, not wanting to go into too much detail.
“Is that so?” Ember asked, “Mr. Drill, our tribe spent a long time hiding from ourselves, until the frost forced us away and like them, I can sense you too have buried something.”
Drill craned his neck to look at her. “Why would it concern you?”
“Because I’m here to help you relax, in both body and mind. It’s okay to let go of your woes here.”
He paused and let his head back down, remaining quiet as he thought about it. Normally Drill went to one of his friends when he needed to uncap his bottled emotions, but they were still at work and truth be told, his experiences would likely catch up with him sooner or later.
With a deep sigh Drill retold the events of the past several days. How it started with the kids at his job, cutting Comet’s wing off, the petition he’d made and the jail time he received.
All throughout Ember Glow nodded and allowed him to continue, being surprisingly candid about the whole thing.
“I-it’s not right, it just isn’t. There was one guard who helped me get back home but I can barely remember his name, Smoke…something.”
“I am afraid we live in an age of sacrifice and compromise Mr. Drill, I have a sister who works the coal mines. I initially wanted to take her place so she could see the sun, but I was denied because of my skills here.”
“Yeah, I’d heard your kind got the short of the stick in the city, I’m sorry about that.”
Ember offered Drill a grateful smile as she continued to work on one of his knots.
“It’s okay, back at our home we had to take an oath of silence. As you can imagine, being able to spontaneously combust when your village is made of wood…isn’t good.”
“But you ponies…” Ember then turned to view something off to the side. “You take things too far sometimes.”
Drill curiously turned around and saw what she was looking at, it was a bright red fire safety container like the one back at the plant, but instead of a fireaxe and other equipment, it simply housed a trio of bright blue glowing crystals, the glass inside icing up despite the room’s warmth.
They were cooling crystals, shards of enchanted ice that detonated on impact, freezing everything around them.
It might not have been as sophisticated as an extinguisher, but anycreature could use them and they were easy to produce. But the thought of using it on a live creature? It was something none would’ve considered a few years ago.
Drill sighed deeply, “You’re right, it’s because we’re scared, I think.”
Ember turned to him. “Are you scared? Of me?”
“No, I mean, you did startle me earlier but you’ve got a good heart.”
“Then I have nothing to fear.” She smiled, “As long as this city has good ponies like you, there will always be room for us.”
“...Thanks.” Drill said simply, sharing her smile before Ember Glow resumed her treatment in silence.
Walking away from the bathhouse Drill almost felt like a colt again.
His body was clean, his clothes were washed, and the massage from Ember had really loosened him up. Now instead of a simple walk, he was striding down the streets, his limbs still occasionally popping and cracking as he experimented with his movements.
It was an experience he’d have to come back for, he simply felt wonderful!
But there were other matters he had to attend to, things like…”Oh for buck’s sake.”
“There was something else I had to do today, what was it?”
Drill’s eyes scrunched in concentration as he searched his mind for the information.
“Let’s see, have breakfast, go to the bathhouse…what am I missing?”
It was always frustrating when his memory failed him and he mentally retraced his steps from the days before. There was the incident, his talk at the pub, being warned by that Diamond Dog, going to the hospital-
“Comet Trail! He’s likely out of the hospital by now! Maybe he’s resting at the orphanage? I should talk to him again and try making amends, hopefully he’s calmed down.”
He made way to Vallery Row where he remembered it was located and after a short while came upon a building vaguely resembling a schoolhouse, with an iron fence and miniature playground inside. Its walls and rooftop painted a bright sunny yellow much like the play equipment.
Though the rocking horse confused him…
“Why is there a Diamidian plaything in here?” He asked himself.
He brushed the thought aside and knocked on the front door, at first he heard nothing but right as he was about to knock a second time, several increasingly loud, frantic hoofsteps signalled the presence of sompony not just running, but galloping towards the door.
He took a cautious step back just in time for the door to swing open, narrowly avoiding being smacked by it.
The cherry red mare on the other side had just enough time to spout- “Hi there how are you doing I’m-” -before the door bounced off the wall and back into its frame, likely slamming into her in the process.
Drill took a deep breath before letting out another long, exaggerated sigh.
“Is the youth these days that bad?”
With a step forward Drill pulled on the handle and pushed the door away to reveal the unicorn mare rubbing her nose.
“Are you okay there miss?” He asked
“Mhm” She mumbled, “Shorry.”
Drill smiled as she ushered him inside away from the cold. The inside of the building was uniquely colourful compared to the rest of the city, a combination of greens, blues and yellows depicting Equestria as it was before the Frost, when it wasn’t just snow and ice.
But despite all the signs of life the building remained worriedly lifeless, devoid of any others besides the two ponies.
The cherry mare wiped a speck of blood from her lip before turning to Drill with a forced smile. “Anyway, I’m Rose Symphony, is there anything I can do for you?”
“Yes, is there a colt here named Comet Trail? Lost his wing not long ago and I wanted to try making amends.”
“Oh, you must be Drill Bit! He came back from the hospital last night and mentioned you.”
“Y-yes! Is he here?”
“I’m afraid not,” She said through gritted teeth, “He’s at work but I’m sure you can talk when he comes back!”
“Wait WHAT?! He’s back at the ore plant?!” Drill exclaimed, anger immediately erupting from inside.
Rose shrank under his voice and talked quickly. “As bad as it is, there’s not really much I can do about it. Without parents, it’s up to the city to decide where they work, and nopony would send their child to such places sooo…” She grimaced.
Drill shut his eyes and facehooved. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” After a moment he returned to Rose with a scowl. “At least tell me he has a decent life here.”
The mare’s already shrunken posture lowered even further as Drill asked the question, but when his glare hardened the mare snapped back.
“Look, I already have it hard enough around here, okay? Do you think I’d be able to pay enough attention to their friendship circles when I’m pulling voluntary overtime around the clock?”
Drill opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to come up with a counter argument until he realised it was for the wrcong reasons, so he conceded his pride. “You raise a fair point and I’m sorry if I came across as insensitive. Can I see his room at least?”
Rose nodded and led him through the orphanage, past classrooms and nurseries, a kitchen and lunch hall, before arriving at the bedrooms which in truth were more like bunkrooms with the beds stacking as high as the ceiling.
It made Drill’s apartment seem like luxury by comparison.
“His bunk is on the left.”
With a nod, Drill approached and found…very little, just a mattress with some sheets and a pillow. He then glanced around and saw the same thing with the rest of the beds, something was missing from them, something important.
“Where are all the toys? Shouldn’t this place have toys? Stuffed animals, letter cubes, stuff like that?”
“About that…” Rose rubbed the back of her head as she entered the room herself. “Remember what I said about voluntary work? Well there’s not a whole lot of amenities to go around, the city provides us what it can afford and little else, I guess they’d rather have the kids working.”
Rose then reached behind one of the beds and took out a worn, hoof repaired violin, its previously polished surface now marked with cuts,dents and fadded portions from use. “There’s no story books so I put them to sleep with this, it works well enough.”
Drill stood speechless, unable to respond as Rose played a few strings which to her credit, were well practised.
“Did you know the violin’s Professor Fire Heart’s favourite instrument?” She asked, sounding almost proud about the little detail.
“N-No, no I didn’t and I don’t think I needed to.” He finally spoke.
But Rose scowled at that. “What is your problem?”
“I’m sorry I-” Drill fumbled, trying to sort through his words. “I did it, okay? I’m the one that cut his wing off, I-I tried apologising at the hospital and he…he…”
His shoulders slumped and Rose moved to comfort him. “Yes…he talked about the accident, I take it it’s weighing on you?”
“It’s been on my mind ever since.”
“Well, what do you think would help you earn his apology?”
“I..I don’t know, that’s at least partially why I came.” Drill thought for a moment, trying to draw on threads of thought. “Do you know anything about his parents? Maybe I could…make something?”
Cherry’s expression turned somber. “From what I could gather, they both passed away while the generator was being built, fire apparently.”
Drill winced and shut his eyes as distant memories came flooding back, those of panicked shouts and alarm bells, rows of stretchers and bodybags in equal measure.
An unnecessary day of suffering and chaos in the name of progress.
“Bucking safety policies, why does this world have to be so damn cruel?” breathing deeply, he took a step back and looked around, hoping to draw upon his environment.
He looked to the wardrobes and shook his head, then to the ceiling with its colour patterns painted on, but had similar results.
It was when he stared at the beds that a thought crossed his mind.
“What age do we live in that kids don’t get toys…” And it was at that exact moment that Drill had an epiphany. “Wait, wasn’t Toy Chest a toymaker before the frost?”
Drill immediately snapped back to Rose Symphony with a grin.
“I think I know how I can make it up to Comet!”
Author's Note
At first, many in New Canterlot saw the Kirins as dangerous creatures, walking fire hazards that were barred from many buildings and establishments. It took time for the neighbourhood watch to re-focus their efforts into de-escalation as before that point, they’d prioritised direct action and conflict resolution.
After the inclusion of the Kirins, New Canterlot developed self-sealed chambers nicknamed "Hotboxes" to give the Kirins a safe place to vent their frustrations whilst dumping their fiery anger into the city's heating network.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
CH 8 - A Night At The Pub
Foghorns bellowed throughout the city as the day’s work shifts came to an end.
Ponies began leaving their workplaces and flooding the city streets, performing their nightly rituals like any other day. In most cases, that meant grabbing some dinner and running some errands, maybe picking something up from a surplus store, or trying to enjoy what free time they had.
In spite of how hostile the climate had become as of late, ponies still found ways to make the best of it. One of the few positives in this less-than-ideal situation.
So why so many ponies were gathering around the Pipe & Hole was anypony’s guess, at least to Drill Bit.
A queue was forming out front and at first Drill dreaded a repeat of the Cookhouse. It was long, winding, and the bouncer out front was taking their time. Only the presence of an actual guard may have been keeping the line orderly as there were so many that Drill couldn’t see either’s face.
“Sweetie’s nightly shows are good, but they don’t normally do this. What's the occasion?”
He looked around as he joined the queue, scanning the rust ridden walls and iced up power cables, before resting his gaze on a brightly coloured poster just about visible on the Pub’s doors.
While he couldn’t describe details, it was enough to jog his memory.
“Oh right, there was a show, now I wish I’d taken a good look at that thing.” Drill thought.
It’s been a while since he’d gone to see a show or performance of some kind, another comfort he thought lost to the frost. But now he was curious as to what they could be offering, extra drinks? A pantomime? A special song written by Sweetie? Whatever the case it looked like he wouldn’t be in before midnight at this rate.
Or at least that’s what he thought before a sharp whistle whisked him back to reality.
Drill peeked out from the line and towards the direction it came from, it was from the bouncer and the moment he caught a proper look he realised why, It was Steel Beam!
It made sense, Steel towered over the others and the draft’s strength was visible even through all the thick clothing. He waved a hoof gesturing his approach and so Drill did, skipping the entire line and feeling the ire of the onlookers upon him
Drill kept his head down and hurried.
For his trouble he was at least greeted with a smile from Steel, his expression wordlessly asking a question that made Drill cringe thinking about it. Come to think of it, he had been absent for several days and knew it’d no doubt bothered Steel, so with a low voice he answered.
“Prison…”
Giving a silent nod he pointed towards the door, but regardless of how quiet Drill had spoken the guard casted a suspicious eye over him.
Just as he was about to move towards the entrance, a shout from the queue stopped him in his tracks.
“Hey, why does he get to skip the line?!” Somepony cried.
The guard then turned to Steel with similar zeal, “Yeah, why?”
Before the situation could escalate, the draft then padded down Drill’s pockets and somehow produced a small paper card. Emblazoned with white, purple and pink swirls it proudly displayed the card’s holder a Very Important Pony with a formal invitation.
A few scoffs and groans emerged from the crowd whilst the guard dropped all attention right then and there.
Steel gave him a wink before ushering Drill towards the door and he wasted little time, unwanting of the attention from outside.
Still, he had to fight to contain a smug grin. “I don’t know where you learned to do that Steel, but I’m thankful you did. That was probably his own pass he’d just given up, oh he knows I owe him now.”
The inside of the pub was packed with ponies, in fact it was a veritable sea of them with a few groups of kirins mixed in. A gramophone was playing some ambient orchestral music behind the sounds of chatter and clinking cups.
“At least their respectful enough not to smoke, how does Sweetie sing with so much of it around?”
Regardless, he knew trying to find Toy Chest in this mess would’ve been like plucking a needle from a haystack, so he made his way to the bar and managed to find a seat.
Berry would know, she saw hundreds of faces yet the mare had the remarkable ability to put names to each one. All Drill had to do was wait to be served.
It took a while, there were many other ponies waiting like him. When Drill finally caught sight of the mare his eyes went wide, but not because of Berry herself, rather it was the pony working beside Berryshine that caught his attention.
“Soda Stream?”
The cream white mare turned around and her face lit up. “Drill Bit!” She exclaimed, rushing over to him, “What happened to you?!”
Drill looked at her with new sets of rings around his eyes, his tone dropping likewise. “Remember that petition?” He asked, before giving an uncomfortably long pause. “Well I got arrested for it.”
“Arrested?” Soda squeaked, “So you’ve spent the past three days?...” Her face turned pale enough to embarrass a ghost and her ears drooped to her sides. Drill could see her heart sinking into her hooves as the revelation haunted the mare.
Not wanting to linger, he tried to change the subject. “I…see you finally got the job here.”
“Oh! Uh yeah! Berry needed some extra hooves for the event, hopefully she’ll let me stay! I needed to get away from that ore plant.”
Drill raised his chin up at that, a subtle smile spreading up his lips. “Speaking of which, how are things over there? Are the kids safe?”
“A-about that…you’ve uh…”
His prior smile completely vanished and Drill’s blood turned cold- “Please don’t say it.”
“You’ve been replaced.”
-and then immediately ignited, prompting him to slam a hoof on the counter. “Bucking Dammit!” He mentally scorned as he laid back face-hoofing.
“I’m so, so sorry Drill Bit, if it helps, the new Forepony is taking his job seriously and trying to keep the kids safe. Nopony’s been hurt since he started.”
It was a small comfort, but too little too late.
“All of this over a bucking petition…” He groaned, no less annoyed. “Seriously? No notice, no argument, just nope! You're out! Next time I see Ballpoint I’m gonna bucking strangle him.”
Taking a long sigh, he contemplated things, Soda looking somberly at her now former coworker.
“Is there…anything I can do?”
“Just let me talk to Berry real quick.”
Soda nodded and headed off whilst Drill calmed down, trying to keep his head clear and rational as the emotional fallout rained on him. It was taking a fair amount of mental effort to not just say ‘buck it’ and get hammered to try and quell things.
First would be the anger that he was experiencing now, then later would come the quiet depression, before finally leaving on acceptance and neutrality, he knew this much. But that would be for later as right now Berry had arrived.
Upon seeing the disgruntled stallion she paused for a moment, looking over him. “You’ve had it rough, haven’t you?”
“You don’t know the half it it, do you know where Toy Chest is?”
“Toy Chest? I think he went upstairs.”
Drill turned away and jumped off the stool, already trying to weave his way through the crowd when Berry raised her mechanical hoof.
“W-wait! Are you okay Drill?” She cried, already sensing something was wrong.
But the most he did was briefly turn to reply. “I’ll be back…”
And so he disappeared into the crowd as Berry quickly returned to her duties. Drill pushed his way through, trying to avoid bumping into others as best he could, swimming through a sea of seats and tables as he reached an open staircase that led upwards.
He found himself in a hallway, leading to a game room on the right and several private rooms on the left. Drill was about to try for the game room when he heard a door open and out strode a lavender-coated pegasus mare with an even deeper purple mane, her crimson red corset leaving little doubt to her role within the building.
She seemed thoroughly unamused however as she hastily retreated from whatever event had transpired behind the open door, sliding around Drill Bit and out of view.
“Drill Bit?”
He turned to see Toy poking his head out from the doorway, the two exchanging awkward looks as Drill registered what was going on.
“Toy Chest?”
At the utterance of his name, he smiled and Drill was thrown to the ground by the unicorn’s hug. Seeing a prostitute walk out of the same room as him was one thing, but to then be immediately embraced was another.
“You’re hugging me?” Drill said, still processing everything going on.
“Mhm!”
“You realise where we are, right?”
“Yeah, and? Hugs are nice!”
A long moment passed as Drill darted his eyes, nervous of anypony who’d stumble into them. But slowly he raised a hoof to return the gesture, “Oh Toy Chest, you’re too good for this world.”
After their embrace, they’d take a step back. “So who was that?” Drill asked.
“Oh! Some mare named Velvet Smooth, she asked if I wanted to have some fun so I showed her my action figure collection!”
A third dose of bewilderment racked Drill Bit as he stared at him, in part because he had a pretty good idea what fun the mare actually intended, but chose to focus on something less risque. “Y-You just…have that?”
“Yep!” As if to demonstrate, Toy rushed back into the room and left with a bag full to the brim with painted wooden models, which he deposited into a saddlebag.
Left a little scatterbrained, Drill violently shook his head and locked eyes with him. “Okay, look, Toy Chest? I need your help,” on cue the Unicorn’s smile widened, listening intently. “Remember that colt who lost his wing? Because of me? Well I wanna make it up to him by giving him a toy.”
Getting a little closer to Toy Chest, he looked him in the eye with as serious an expression as he could muster. "Do you think you can make him something?"
There was a moment of quiet, Toy’s smile slowly began to wane, bit by bit it died down into a more concerned frown as Toychest pushed his glasses back up his nose. "I-I dunno Drill, it depends, what kind of toy are we talking? Do you even know what he likes?"
"He likes flying."
"But he can't fly anymore can he?"
Drill paused for a moment before sighing, his voice low with regret. "No...no he can’t."
Thinking for a moment, Toy Chest dug around his saddlebags and pulled out a baseball cap before putting it on, which Drill raised an eyebrow at.
“What are you?...”
“It’s my thinking cap!”
There was an audible smack as Drill planted his hoof on his forehead, trying desperately to cover up his smile. Celestia above, he could only take so much before he started laughing at his friend’s antics.
However that moment of joy did help spark his mind, and he turned to Toy Chest with a grin. “Actually, I do have one idea.” He then leaned forward and whispered into Toy’s ear, who seemed to smile quite a bit.
“Okay, yeah! I can try something like that but as much as I want to Drill, I can’t just…make toys anymore.” The adult colt put away his hat before returning a look of sincerity. “I might be working with wood still but they don’t allow anypony to go home with the scraps, it all gets recycled.”
“Are you saying you can’t?” Drill knew it was a big ask given the circumstances, but part of him refused to believe Toy Chest would just leave it alone.
“I can try but…you’ll have to give me something to work with.”
“Like…cloth?” Drill shrugged.
“Uh no, something else, most ponies nowadays don’t operate on goodwill alone, shame as it is, and what you're asking isn’t cheap.”
Another deep, exaggerated sigh left Drill as he rubbed the back of his head. Of course, things were going to be complicated and of course, things weren’t going to be easy. But like any other problem, this one had a solution.
The first of which he realised was sitting in his coat pocket.
“Should I really do this? A hundred bits is a lot for a toy, I could refit my apartment for half that amount!”
His mind quickly flashed to the cold and angry look of Comet in the hospital and the dream he had with Copper.
“Then again, it was a gift in the first place, and I made a promise…”
Drill reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper bill, inscribed with New Canterlot’s insignia in gold foil. The sight had Toy Chest cartoonishly widen his eyes and lean back, how his centre of balance didn’t prompt him to fall? Drill wasn’t about to ask.
“Think this is enough?” He plainly asked.
“I…uh? You know much that is, right?”
“mhm.”
“I mean, thanks! But it is a lil’ overkill.”
“Well it’s not like I can tear it half, can I?”
“Heh, well actually…” He trailed off.
Drill stared at him for several seconds before looking at the paper bill. Toy Chest closed the distance and pointed towards the bill’s midsection.
“See the dotted line in the middle? Gold has a feature that Silver and Copper don’t.” Toy then enveloped the bill within his magical scarlet grasp and lifted it into the air, holding it up clear as day for Drill Bit.
True to his word, there was a marked tear line going down the bill’s middle, it was subtle and there wasn’t any other markings or words, but it was there.
“Now if your reeeaaaal careful, you..can…”
With tiny amounts of pressure, a tear began to form across its middle, following the dotted tear line. Drill felt his heart cringe as he ground his teeth together, over two decades of trust was put to the test as he resisted the urge to stop him right then and there.
Amazingly enough however, Toy had managed to make a perfect line and upon doing so revealed something else: The bill had an internal cavity lined with silver foil.
In one fell swoop Toy turned the two halves inside out, creating two smaller, silver-grade bills.
“Why in Equestria does it have this feature?!” Drill exclaimed.
To which Toy replied with a smug grin. “Because most ponies don’t typically have the change?”
“How do you know this?”
“Who do you think keeps the surplus store stocked with chess sets? Bits can grease a lot of gears.”
Drill narrowed his eyes at the younger unicorn, his expression a mix of absurd bewilderment and amazement. He slowly plucked his half of the bill from the air and pocketed the paper, not once taking his eyes off the smug toymaker.
“You know I never took you for the bribery type.”
“Not many do, and that’s why I’m still here. Anyway, this should be more than enough! I’ll get back to you in a couple days and see if you like it.”
“Thanks, Toy Chest, I hope it goes well.”
Toy gave Drill a quick one-armed hug and a smile.
“No probs, c’mon! I think the show is about to start!” With that, the overly eager unicorn pranced past Drill Bit. The stallion himself if not sharing his energy, at least his smile.
But in his haste, Toy neglected to take care approaching the staircase, leading to a very unfortunate step on a loose beer bottle.
Said misstep sent Toy Chest tumbling through the air-
“Gah whoputthatthere?!”
-before crashing onto the stairs.
“Gak!-Ack!-Doe-Dak!-Ahh!”
Toy splayed himself out at the foot of the staircase with his eyes swirling around, his head likewise with a ring of floating beer bottles circling him.
Drill rushed to the head of the stairs and called out from above.
“Toy Chest! Are you okay?!”
“Appleloosa!?”
Drill happily rolled his eyes and made his way down to help his friend back to his hooves, brushing off bits of dust and dirt from the fall. “Come on you clutz, let’s go find a seat.”
Once able to stand correctly, Toy nodded and the two made off into the Pub.
Finding a table wasn’t easy with so many already occupied, but a little persistence paid off and not a moment too soon.
The lights began to dim and the noise of countless conversations with it, ponies had taken off some of their garments to adjust to the heat with many others enjoying a drink.
Stagelights flicked on and a tan earth pony with a red vest walked out of the curtains towards the microphone, gently blowing to test it.
“Everypony, put your hooves together for a special performance from our star singer, the Snowflake of New Canterlot herself, Sweetie Belle!”
Drill snickered to himself as hundreds of hooves began clapping in unison. “A bit pretentious, she sings every other day at the Pub. Then again there’s few ponies with a voice like hers.”
As the stagepony left the applause only exploded as the mare to take his place appeared from the curtains. Clad in glamour with a purple and white dress to accent her mane, she stepped forward with the grace of a ballerina and towards the microphone.
The applause died down and the curtains drew to reveal a full band behind her. All with a variety of instruments they’d no doubt fanatically practised with.
And so with the building all to herself, the band began playing and she held up the mic.
“Round and round, like a carousel!...”
As the song spun on, Drill felt the warm joy of nostalgia wash over him. Good music, pleasant smiles, plenty of company and not a single breeze of cold air. Merely the atmosphere of a night’s entertainment.
Just for a moment, a single blissful moment, he could ignore the world outside and smile. Forget about work and rations, prisons and snow, forget about the horrors outside and the monsters within, and just be happy.
Happy not for the world he now lives in, but for the world he still has.
Author's Note
"Come attend a special show live at the Pipe & Hole! Written and sung by the jewel of New Canterlot herself, Sweetie Belle! Extra drinks and snack foods are available. No creatures under 18 or otherwise racially mature age."
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Being unemployed felt weird to Drill Bit, granted he was thankful for the extended rest period while the work office figured out what to do with him, but it also meant he couldn’t enjoy a full meal until then.
At this point though he was over stomach pains, half rations and thin soup be damned. Sadly he wasn’t in a position to indulge and would have to endure it for the moment.
On the bright side however, Toychest had finished whatever it was hiding inside the gift wrapped box now tucked inside Drill’s saddlebag. So with a soft smile and slight spring to his step, the stallion trotted towards the Orphanage in the early hours of the day, hoping to catch Comet before they sent him off.
He approached the front door and knocked, but after several moments there was little indication he was heard.
“She’s probably busy with the little ones, she’ll hear me eventually.”
Drill knocked again, patiently waiting for somepony to answer.
…
Suddenly a series of loud bangs indicative of a gallop sounded out and Drill took a step back.
It was well timed as before, the door blasted open flying around on its hinge- “Hello I’m- Oh Drill Bit!-” -before bouncing off the wall, but Drill caught the door with a hoof before it could give Rose another lip bleed.
Both stared at the door as Drill lowered his hoof. “You really need to be less forceful with that.”
“Sorry, but you have kind of caught me during rush hour.” Rose stepped aside to reveal several children of different ages walking around performing their morning routines, and if Drill listened carefully he could hear the distant cries of some young foal.
Rose’s smile couldn’t have been more forced if she tried.
“Right, well I’d like to talk to Comet, I think you know why.” Drill gestured toward his saddlebag.
“Oh! Yes of course, just please try not to disrupt anypony, most are still having breakfast.”
Drill nodded and stepped inside as Rose went her own way, likely back to her duties while Drill retraced his steps. Despite it being closer to half seven the orphanage was abuzz with activity, many walked the halls in either ragged, homemade pyjamas or thicker clothing meant for outside.
He hadn’t even considered how chilly the air was until the thought occurred to him, it wasn’t anywhere near the suffering of the prison but that was to be expected.
Still, It put a needle in his heart to know most of them wouldn’t be going to a classroom. He only prayed they stayed away from the factories.
Drill walked up to the bunkroom door he remembered had Comet’s bed and entered. The first thing he heard was the sound of several kids…being kids.
“Some ‘shooting star’ you’ll be!”
“Imagine being an earth pony but without any of the magic!”
“Comet Trail? More like Comet Fail!”
He took a deep breath and prepared a stern frown only an ageing pony with too many workplace mishaps could muster, then threw the door wide open. There were no shouts, no loud bangs, no indication of any kind.
Comet had been pushed into the literal corner of the room with a trio of colts having their backs turned to the door, with Comet himself using his sole wing as a shield audibly whimpering. That however didn’t stop him seeing Drill appear in the doorway.
The moment his expression changed the bullies took note.
They then slowly turned around and each of their pupils collectively shrank to the size of a pea.
“Unless you have a reason to be in here, or your name is Comet Trail, leave.”
Drill stepped to the side and the bullies sped out the door so fast they might’ve impressed an athlete.
Closing the door behind him, Drill put on a smile and approached the prone pegasus. “Drill Bit! You came back!” He cried.
“Yep, and I brought you something as well.” The stallion sat down next to Comet and pulled out the blue and red gift wrapped box.
The moment he laid eyes upon it Comet’s face welled up as he took it with both hooves, gently placing it on the ground in front of him. Drill could sense the happiness welling within the colt and see the wonder in his eye as he looked at the velvet bow, smiling at his friend’s work.
“This is for me?” Comet said with his voice quivering in disbelief.
“It is, I said I was sorry and I wanted to prove it.” Drill’s expression soured a little. “I know it can’t replace the wing you lost, but I hope you’ll like it all the same.”
Comet turned back to the present and reached for its bow, but stopped himself short, his expression faltering as he hesitated. Drill raised an eyebrow at that and Comet turned to him, “Mr. Drill Bit?” He said, his voice laced with guilt. “I’m also sorry about shouting at you at the hospital. I shouldn’t have gone supernova like that.”
Drill simply smiled and pushed the gift closer to him. “That’s alright Comet, you just got angry and made a mistake, it’s something that happens to everypony eventually. And after what happened, I figured you would.” He then gestured towards the present.
“Go ahead, open it.”
The colt looked back to the present and with a tear in his eye, plucked the loose ends of the velvet bow. In a moment the wrapping came undone and he pulled the lid off, reaching inside for his prize.
Drill Bit saw first hoof that golden moment of wonder every parent on Hearth’s Warming waits for, as when Comet pulled out a stuffed look-alike of Princess Luna he was stunned. Toychest had out-done himself, the fabric was soft and cushy, the colours were bright and vivid, he’d even added details to her mane like tiny star constellations!
Comet hugged the thing so tightly he might’ve crushed it were it alive. Silently whimpering tears of joy as he embraced the Princess of Dreams, pouring an untold amount of emotion into the stuffed toy as he extended his one wing around to shield it.
Seeing him happy like this filled Drill’s heart with a fulfilling, soul nourishing joy that made him smile hard enough to hurt. So much so he couldn’t help himself but chuckle at the colt’s fortune, how couldn’t he? It was like the Hearth’s Warming he never had.
But something was wrong, something was very, very wrong.
It didn’t take long for reality to come knocking and remind Drill that Comet still had to go back to that accursed Ore Plant. That was when it hit him.
“If I adopt Comet, I could decide where he goes!”
However, his common sense immediately jumped in front of his emotions to point out the issues.
“But…am I able to raise a kid? There’ll be growing pains for sure, I’ll have to give up drinking for starters and re-furnish my apartment.” Drill then panned his gaze around the rest of the room, looking at the bunks. “But It’s better than being here, kids can be evil little things.”
His mind found itself wrapped in a brief tug of war, weighing the logical conflicts against the moral justifications. In the end…the obvious one won out.
“Push on Drill Bit,” He then returned to Comet, quietly rocking back and forth with his new friend. “For a brighter tomorrow.”
Taking a deep breath, he relaxed and prepared himself. “Comet?” He spoke softly.
The colt paused his rocking and turned to him, his eyes pink from the outpour. “Yes Mr. Drill Bit?”
“Do you want to stop working at that Ore Plant?”
Comet nodded, hugging his plushie harder as if hoping it would protect him.
“Well there’s a way I can do that. I’m afraid I’m not in charge there anymore, but if somepony adopts you, they can decide where you work. I know we’ve only really just met, and asking this early is sort of silly of me, but the thought of you going back there hurts me.”
“It hurts me to.” Comet added.
“I know it does,” Drill nodded, “So I’d like to ask you Comet Trail, would you be interested in being adopted?”
The colt’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open, staring up at him.
“I can’t promise things will be perfect, but I do promise to do my best.”
Comet hesitated to answer which came as no surprise to the stallion, this was as big a decision for him as it were for Drill. But one glance towards the bunkroom door and the three ponies peeping on them solidified his mind and he nodded with a smile.
“Thank you Comet, I won’t let this chance slip.”
Drill Bit picked himself up and headed for the door, hearing the scattering of several hooves as he approached. Before he grabbed the handle he turned back one more time. “I need to talk to some ponies, but you will hear back from me. I promise.”
Comet nodded with a smile. “Thank you Mr. Drill Bit!”
With little more reason to stay, Drill left and headed for the exit.
New Canterlot’s administration building was not something Drill would call the peak of architecture.
Sure, it was better than the giant metal towers plugged up with glass from most of the city, but it still oozed an aura of arrogance.
How else could a noble have twisted the Captain’s arm into letting them have a completely open public square out front, in a city where everything was cramped?
The curved double staircases that led to the front door, the polished wooden panels hiding the steel frames, even just the dam observatory that poked out the very top of the building like a church bell. Oh sure Pegasi were using it as a mail drop off point, but the inconsistency between it and the rest of the town made it painfully obvious somepony had made some backroom deal with Iron Might during construction.
Even now he was stunned it wasn’t coated in gold just to complete the obnoxious show of indulgence.
Drill Bit huffed as he climbed the staircase. “I need to calm down, I’m being bitter again.”
He stopped just short of the double doors and caught his breath.
“Okay Drill Bit, go in, hoof in the adoption form you filled out, ask about getting a job at the Hothouse and you’ll be fine.”
With a nod, he grabbed the door handle and pulled.
“Won’t take a minute.”
“A week?! Are you kidding me?”
Drill glared daggers at the apathetic unicorn mare sat opposite him, towering stacks of paper flanking her sides as she re-checked her papers, utterly unfazed by Drill’s outburst.
“I’m sorry sir, but that’s the earliest we can get a replacement for the Ore Plant, if it really can’t wait then you’ll have to take it up with the head of office.”
“Administrator Ballpoint? Oh I think I well then.” Drill scowled, but again his attitude made little difference to the mare as she returned to her notes.
“Give me one moment sir, I’ll see when he’s available.”
Drill leaned back in his chair and paced out his breathing. Yes he was angry, but knew that wouldn’t get him far in a place like this. Next thing he knows he’d be dragged out by a guard on “anti-social behaviour” if he didn’t calm down. And that wouldn’t make the adoption process any easier either.
Just when he’d managed to turn the gas off the mare added fuel to the fire.
“I’m sorry to say this but he’s not currently taking meetings with the public right now.”
Drill’s gaze snapped back to the mare and he felt his lungs inhale, ready to throw another fit. But instead, he held his breath and whickered, releasing pressure off that boiling kettle. The stallion had embarrassed himself enough already with the last outcry he didn’t need to look like a toddler.
“So you're saying I’m going to be unable to adopt him for a straight week? And you still don’t have any information on what my next position will be?”
Again the mare responded with the same amount of effort most spent getting out of bed in the morning or paying their taxes.
“Unfortunately so, things have slowed down now that we’re dealing with a near constant stream of refugees, we’re still restructuring things to keep up.” She said, trying to reorganise her notes. “Even a city has growing pains.”
Drill shut his eyes and sweared under his breath, it was yet another thing to add to his list of creature discomforts. Having exhausted his options he got up from his chair before giving her one last look. “Thanks for your help…”
She only nodded to confirm she’d heard him before Drill set off again.
At the very least the walk would give him time to clear his mind, administration wasn’t a small place. Like the hospital it was a long building with about two branches going either direction from the entrance, with the inside featuring many office blocks and cubicles, like the one he was walking away from now.
The floors and ceilings had polished wood arranged into neat little patterns and the light bulbs even had covers. All the makings of a pre-frost bureaucrat’s wet dream, but it had at least given the place a natural look.
If one could call processed wood, steel beams and exposed plumbing natural…
Drill exited the left branch hallway and entered the main atrium where the centrepiece of the building stood. A huge spiralling staircase that led up into a glass dome in the ceiling where messengers flew in and out delivering countless reports. The spiral itself having depressions and draws with packages and messages Drill could only guess the contents of which.
But such a thing was above his pay grade and he cared little for it, the guards would’ve stopped him or any other rascal trying to have at it.
“A whole week, and no public meetings, who does Inkwell think he is? Ah yes you can adopt a child and choose where they work, but we get the final on if they get and when they get adopted, that’s just peachy.”
Drill’s hooves stomped with each step, mentally picturing Ballpoint’s smug face as he moved.“Oh here I go complaining again, it’s all I ever do, complain complain complain. Still, it’s a better way to vent my anger then say, screaming my lungs out or starting a fire-”
Drill crossed an office block when something large obscured by several stacks of paper suddenly collided with him, sending both parties to the ground and showering them in processed wood.
Drill gave an equine-like snort in frustration as he got back up and turned to see who he’d crashed into, quickly discerning the large silhouette of a diamond dog in a yellow office shirt.
“Fucking damnit there go the four-five-one forms!” He swore, pushing up his glasses.
Drill’s prior frustration began to die down as he recognised him. “Cazrel?”
He’d already begun gathering up the papers when he heard his name. “Huh? Oh Drill Bit! Nice of you to crash in.”
“Sorry.” He spoke through his teeth before moving to help collect Cazrel’s scattered pages.
“So how’d that petition go?”
“Let’s just say I should’ve heeded your warning.”
“Fucking really?” Cazrel looked up at him, “They actually locked ya up for that?”
“Yep, and you were right, worst three days of my life.”
“Oh I’m gonna strangle that-” Cazrel stopped himself mid-sentence and breathed in. “Okay…so what brings ya here anywho?”
“I was actually on my way out, I’m trying to adopt the kid that got his wing severed but they delayed me by a week.”
“A whole ass week? What lazy flank couldn’t approve a single adoption form?”
“I don’t know, the mare that told me that’s how long it’ll take to get a replacement.”
”Oh of course, oh of fucking course.” Had Cazrel not been holding his growing stack of papers he would’ve faceplamed. “What else is new?”
“Well seeing as you asked,” Drill remarked.
“Oh no.”
“She also told me to take it up with the head of the office, but Ballpoint’s not taking public meetings.”
“Okay that much I knew, but ye-actually no, no fuck this.” Cazrel plucked the last of the papers from Drill’s hooves and set them on a nearby table. “Ya got screwed over once I ain’t letting it happen’ again.”
Drill raised an eye at that. “How? Didn’t you say you only recently came here? I might not know how the power structure here works but I wouldn’t think a Diamidian would hold that kind of power, no offence.”
“Oh none taken, none at all. Remember when I said I’d threatened to blow the whistle on Queen Eudora before she locked me up?
“Yes?”
“Well guess what? I was her general secretary.”
Drill’s eyes widened in not so much shock as surprise and suddenly a lot more made sense. Most especially his foul mouth.
“Yeah, turns out running a city requires some-creature with experience, that suddenly makes this random mutt valuable.”
Slowly Drill’s mouth curved into a sinister and knowing smile.
“Huh…you know you raise a good point.”
“Damn straight, now wait here, I’m about to teach you the perks of favouritism.”
Author's Note
Known as "The first traitor," Cazrel Manx was perhaps the first mutt to speak out against Diamidia's changing government from a constitutional monarchy to an absolute one where
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Drill Bit wasn’t a fan of corruption, nepotism or any other buzzword one would use to describe when they saw a government run by flawed ponies. Such a thing was a fact of life and he was an honest pony, working an honest life.
But even he had to admit, having a friend in high places had benefits.
Only an hour after Cazrel had left and he found himself standing outside an oak door with frosted glass, Work Office Administrator Ballpoint’s nameplate spelled out on the top.
“Well, time to see what the blueblood’s made of.”
Taking a deep breath, Drill knocked on the door and after confirmation, pushed through.
To his credit, Ballpoint’s office wasn’t some opulent gold decorated throne room. Compared to Drill’s old Forepony office it was fancy sure, but not decadent.
Oak bookshelves and towering stacks of file cabinets lined the walls, his desk and chairs likewise polished to a shine and a large window with its blinds half-closed gave the room whatever natural light the sun still shined.
The paper white unicorn himself cleaned his round-rimmed glasses before returning to his new guest.
“Drill Bit?”
“Hello Administrator,” He forced a smile. “May I have a seat?”
“O-Of course, I’m sorry I…wasn’t aware you’d be visiting me today.” Ballpoint also seemed a little panicked which was odd given the context.
“Yeah,” Drill replied as he sat down, “Well I can assure it’s for an issue that can’t wait. It’s about a colt that lost his wing. I was hoping I could adopt him.”
“Well that’s easy enough, why would you have to come to me about it?” Ballpoint chuckled.
“Because I was given a week’s wait and the faster I can get him out of Ironside Row the better.”
The unicorn’s smile waived and he returned to his papers, flicking through too many to count with a reading speed that would’ve made a librarian blush.
“Celestia knows what actual coffee would do to him.”
In less then a minute he paused and looked back at him, his expression uneasy. “I can arrange something, speaking of which I do believe we’ve found a spot for you.”
Drill raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“Blackrock Row Coal Mine, I believe your experience and knowledge of geology would prove irreplaceable down there.”
A soft sigh escaped Drill’s throat as his smile left him.
“Uh yeah no thanks, I’ve seen enough accidents to know where that’ll go. Never mind breathing in coal dust everyday.” He scorned, of all the ponies to lose his composure in front of, he knew for a fact Ballpoint wasn’t one of them. Noble bureaucrat or not this one pony decided his fate.
Still, he knew what kind of life that would entail and it wasn’t one he was ready to jump back into, especially with today’s standards. Too much mineral dust and not enough masks, ten or more hour shifts and the ever present threat of accidents doing him in.
So with a cough in his hoof to clear his throat, he continued. “With all due respect sir, I was hoping I could transfer to the Hothouses with the kid, it’d be safer and I could keep an eye on him.”
Ballpoint didn’t seem to agree, his smile straining and eye twitching at the idea.
“Administrator, Mr. Drill Bit, and while I no doubt see the value in keeping the young boy safe, I believe it would be better if you took this job and he remained at the plant.”
Drill’s own eyebrow twitched.
“Well I have a doctorate which technically makes me a doctor,” He shot back, “But I do strongly believe it would be wise if I could watch over him within a safe environment. You can’t imagine the trauma going back there is causing him. And Celestia forbids he potentially get into another accident.”
Ballpoint’s smile had turned flat, his patience starting to wane.
“You need to understand it wouldn’t just be me your inconveniencing, I’d have to pull ponies from other places and besides, no job is ever one-hundred percent safe, accidents can happen anywhere.”
Drill rolled his shoulders and prepared to speak, but just as the first syllable left his vocal cords, Ballpoint cut him off, further stirring the boiling pot.
“It’s up to the administrative staff directing those under them to ensure workplace safety.” He lowered his tone. The unicorn then slowed his speech, speaking clearly and hardening his gaze at him. “To echo myself, better training on those safety standards would prevent those kinds of accidents, like what happened at the Ore Plant.”
“Buck this, no way he’s going to help.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Drill spoke as he climbed from his seat, and in less then a moment his hoof was twisting the door handle.
“Mr. Drill Bit? Where are you going?!”
The stallion turned back to Ballpoint, any semblance of forced emotion gone, leaving only a hard glare.
“To the top.”
Drill Bit and Cazrel stood side by side in front of a door. It didn’t bear any likeness to the fancy oak wood and frosted glass of Ballpoint’s nor was it some ramshackle set of boards with a few nails and hinges.
Instead, it looked like any other door in Canterlot, sturdy and well built but with one notable exception.
The two armed guards standing outside with their rifles to their sides, occasionally catching a glance at the newcomers.
Cazrel arched his head down, a tinge of nervousness evident as he twiddled his thumbs. “You sure about this DB?”
Drill looked up at him and nodded. He might’ve been better at hiding it but Drill was faring no better. “Yeah, worst comes to pass. I get another three days in jail, no biggie…” He then turned back to the door. “No biggie…”
Another long moment of silence passed as they waited, accompanied by the sounds of a muffled conversation playing out in the room beyond.
Drill broke the silence.
“Thanks by the way, for giving me this chance.”
“No problem, I just hope he’s in a good mood today.”
Not a second too soon the doorknob twisted and a pegasus walked out, having finished their talk. Drill took another deep breath and went inside while Cazrel waited.
The room wasn’t all that impressive or over the top, a generic meeting room with a large table and lots of chairs. But that wasn’t important, rather it was who Drill now shared the room with.
A crimson red coated unicorn with a dark grey mane and bright, scarlet eyes met his. Clad in a red and black military uniform without his overcoat or officer’s cap which instead sat on a chair. An oppressive aura of authority radiated from the stallion like a potent calone or powerful heater.
Worse still, The moment his eyes were upon him Drill felt as though a lead weight was dumped onto his shoulders. Made all the harsher by the captain’s persistent, unforgiving frown.
“This is it, make a good impression.”
“Captain Iron Might, my name is Drill Bit. Have you heard of me?”
The stallion panned his gaze across him, as if to judge if he was worth speaking to but after a moment he answered. His voice was low and somewhat gravelly but if he held any disdain for him, his expression showed none of it.
“Yes, you’re the forepony who saved that kid.”
“Mhm, and tried starting a petition but uh…” Drill rubbed his forehead, immediately regretting that he’d brought it up. “It…didn’t go anywhere.”
Iron Might didn’t seem to care much about the petition and merely snorted. “Right, well cut to the chase.”
“I’ve been wanting to adopt him and get us both a transfer to the Hothouses, after such a traumatic injury It would be best if he worked somewhere safe with somepony he can trust.”
“And what’s been stopping you?”
“Administrator Ballpoint Pen, sir.”
Iron Might tore his steel gaze away and idly looked around, pacing the table lost in thought. With an aura of bright red energy he levitated his cap up and inspected it.
Drill almost held his breath at his answer, he worded it well enough didn’t he?
“Here’s the problem, this isn’t the Equestria we know anymore,” he started, almost sounding rehearsed at this point.
“No, apparently not.”
“We don’t do these things to be evil, Drill, we do them because we’re pragmatic, and nopony’s going to care about morals when we’re all buried under ten hooves of snow.” Iron then fixed his glare back at Drill, which while may not have been intentional, was hard enough to bore a hole through his forehead. “And those Diamidians aren’t helping, bucking cannibals.”
“So you’re agreeing with him?” Drill said with a hint of a sneer, though it was hard to argue with his logic.
“In short, yes. This is a new age and everypony has to play their part, lest we freeze, burn or worse. We can worry about classrooms when we can stop worrying about slave collars.”
Drill felt a rise within him, the familiar flames of anger flaring up once more as he lowered his head. His limbs stiffened and his breathing quickened.
“No, this isn’t right.”
The captain raised an eyebrow as Drill lifted his head up again, clear anger boiling over his face as days of pent up frustration elevated his voice.
“I have tried time, after time, after time again to do the right thing and you know what I get for it? I get starved, exposed to the elements, cast aside by a system that treats bucking children as expendable labour. We’re not cogs sir, we’re ponies!”
Iron rolled his shoulders not saying anything, his piercing stare battling against Drill’s dogged determination.
“At this point I don’t care if it’s “for a greater good” or because “that’s just how things are now.” I had to contend with that kind of bucked up logic while working on the Generator and now both my wife and his parents are dead because of it, so I’m going to do what’s right if it bucking kills me!”
The air inside the room settled into near silence, Drill’s breathing being the sole outlier as Iron continued staring at him.
“Are you willing to hold yourself to that son?”
Finally a lease, Drill slowed his breathing and returned to a more neutral state before replying.
“Yes sir, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Another moment’s silence passed as Iron darted his eyes over the stallion. “Very well, I’ll see to it you’re properly transferred, but I don’t want to hear another word about this, understood?”
“Yes, sir…”
Iron nodded and gestured towards the door. Without another word Drill Bit took his leave and closed it behind him, taking a deep breath in, holding it, and letting it go.
“So…how’d it go?”
For the first time in seemingly ages, Drill Bit walked the streets of New Canterlot with a smile.
Between cutting through all the bureaucratic red tape and not being thrown in jail again, things were starting to look up. Whether or not the Captain would deliver on his promise was still to be seen but with any luck he’d hear back shortly.
What would it be like working at a Hothouse? He may have been an earth pony but he only ever tried growing potatoes in his back garden and even then that was more for a joke when he was young.
“Never too old to learn new skills I suppose, I hope the rumours about farmers being fed better are true. It’s been forever since I've had a fresh carrot.”
Before all that though he had to make some preparations. A new bed for Comet, buy some furniture, maybe even a nightlight and some story books if they had them. Nopony ever knew for certain what new item would crop in the surplus store next so saving what little money they earned was always encouraged.
It certainly helped that food didn’t require money, only a stamp and a ration book.
But before all that he’d need to cut through the city centre…where the Generator stood .
Many a memory lay with that damn machine. If Drill could’ve chosen a room that didn’t have a view of it, he would’ve taken it in a heartbeat, but such a thing was outside his control.
It wasn’t that he hated technology itself, it was more the overuse of it that made his skin crawl. The Generator was a marvel of modern engineering and a monument to what ponykind could achieve, yet at the same time the sounds it made graded against his ears.
The churning of metal pipes and pistons, cogs and gears, exchanges and outtakes. It was an array of machinery too complex for a single pony to understand. Like a living body all on its own right nevermind the city it sustained.
“Well, maybe Fire Heart would understand it, she wrote all the books.”
Drill was thankful then he wouldn’t have to stand by it for very long as the public space surrounding the Generator was fairly open. A team of ponies were busy shovelling coal into its belly with a wagon pulled up ready to deliver more, but little else impeded him.
He’d just have to scamper on by and be on his way…
Or at least that’s what he thought.
A few ponies were standing around looking up at something off to Drill’s right, some half confused, some half concerned.
Out of curiosity he sparred a glance and when he did his heart stopped.
Up high above clinging to one of the Generator’s external frames…
…Was Comet Trail.
Author's Note
Captain Iron Might was in charge of the 3rd Company of the Mount Canterhorn Infantry Brigade, sent to maintain order at what would become New Canterlot's Generator during construction. But when the site administrator went missing during the Great Storm, there was no clear leader for the city and so Iron Might stepped up.
Whether the administrator's disappearance was accidental or orchestrated is still a hot topic.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
There was Comet, half grappled onto the Generator’s frame, featuring two wings with only one fully open. While from a distance it certainly looked like he had both wings, that couldn’t be right, Drill had seen him lose it first hoof. He’d…
He’d felt the blood, the bone splintering in half as it was devoured whole, muscle and tendons cracking and snapping like wood-
Drill shaked his head and looked up in disbelief. “What in Equestria is he doing up there?!”
One of the ponies from the herd turned to him. “Your guess is as good as mine pal, I dunno why he won’t open his other wing.”
And that was when it clicked.
“That’s because it’s a false wing! He lost it during an accident a week ago!”
All five ponies in the group snapped to Drill Bit and collectively grimaced as the air around them suddenly changed. Their eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as a couple turned back to the endangered colt.
“Is anypony here a Pegasus?!” Drill exclaimed.
A young yellow mare held her hoof up and shortly after flew up. Drill felt a sigh of relief seeing her race toward Comet who by now seemed to struggle in his climb.
His relief was short lived however as one of the hundreds of pieces of the Generator came to life, a hatch blew open and a gust of superheated steam blasted the Pegasus not even half-way up. A shrill scream woke up the passersby and she tumbled to the ground, groaning in pain as a couple of ponies tended to her.
Drill snapped towards a pony at random. “What was that?!”
“A pressure release hatch I guess? Dispels excess steam to help manage the thing.”
He looked back and once Drill saw one he couldn’t unsee them all, several more release hatches dotted the piping hidden under frame, all circling around where Comet had climbed. The scream elicited the colt’s attention and where was once a naive smile quickly descended into sheer horror.
“Just how in Equestria had he managed to get up that high anyway? That must be at least forty metres!”
Several ponies broke out into a gallop and ran off into the streets, likely to catch a guard patrol and get help. All the while Drill stood helpless as Comet clung to the steel frame, high enough the fall would surely crush the boy.
A few more pegasi took off in hopes they could reach him, but the geysers of pure pain provided ample resistance. Going off seemingly at random and with one example already, they were in no rush to gamble against gravity.
“Mr. Drill Bit!?” Comet called out, trying to avoid looking down. “What do I do?”
A few ponies suddenly turned to him and from there the number quickly escalated. Dozens of eyes fell upon Drill and he felt the weight of a world on his back. His heart raced but he remained calm as the crowd expected an answer.
“Uh, can you try climbing down?!”
Comet tried searching for a spot to place a back leg, but one glance at the ground quickly changed his mind. “I…I-I can’t, I can’t!”
Several ponies looked back at Drill unamused. “Thought I’d try the obvious one first.” He shrugged.
Drill then turned around and began pacing in circles, rubbing his temple in an effort to stimulate his brain. “Come Drill Bit think! There has to be something that can help!”
He looked up at the Generator with its many release hatches constantly spitting steam. A few engineers had met the Generator’s staff and were likely talking about shutting them off, but Drill didn’t want to count on that. The Generator was a large and incredibly complex machine, so doing anything on short notice was unlikely at best. And even if it was possible, it’d likely be too late before it was shut off.
“Pegasi can’t get close to grab him, and even if they do, they'll have to run the gauntlet again without dropping him.”
Drill gazed at the ground where he was most likely to land if he fell. It was hard pavement made from cobblestone with a foundational layer of concrete underneath, at least.
“Do we have something to cushion his fall?”
There wasn’t much around the Generator that could do that, not unless everypony collectively threw their clothes into a pile on the ground which was unreasonable. He saw the coal crew feeding the Generator’s fiery belly, the engineers trying to go about inspecting it for maintenance, the little depot with all its spare parts and extra fuel…
But then Drill beyond to the buildings around him and before long settled upon the many, many chimneys lining the rooftops and houses. “Eureka!”
“Hang in there Comet! Help is coming!”
Comet Trail clung onto the exterior frame as best he could, his limbs screaming in protest as his muscles grew tired. A mixture of adrenaline and primal will kept them in place but that could only go so far.
It was fun at first to feel the familiar wonder of ascension, but now things were going so horribly, horribly wrong. Dangerous steam blasted all around him, ponies numbering in the hundreds were gathering to lay their worried eyes upon him, and even his body trembled as butterflies swam around his belly.
“Stupid colt, stupid stupid stupid! You flew too close to the sun!” He berated himself, his face burning up as tears gathered in his eyes.
It was all too much too fast, he didn’t want to be here, every fibre of his being wanted to be anywhere but here. But he couldn’t escape reality as invisible hooves began prying him from the machine.
“I-I can’t hold on!” He screamed.
“It’s okay Comet, we’ll catch you!”
Several more ponies joined in and began shouting like minded things, but they conjoined into an incomprehensible noise that only assaulted his senses further. He dared not look down, if he did he’d fall for sure. It was taking every ounce of will to stay attached but it was a losing battle.
“Somepony help! I-I don’t wanna crash like an asteroid!”
Drill Bit’s voice pierced through the others like a liferaft in an ocean. “You’ll have to trust me, we will catch you!”
Comet hesitated, still trying to desperately hold on despite it all.
But soon even his racing heart and hagged breaths weren’t enough.
He braced himself one final time before he lost grip entirely, screaming as his body flew through into free fall.
Only mere seconds later did the world turn black, then bright, then black again. His body pushing through something soft yet warm and incredibly acrid, bits of dust more akin to rough sand caught onto his fur and mane yet he didn’t open his eyes, having been locked shut by fear.
Finally he landed on something large and plush, like an oversized bean bag chair before stopping entirely.
He stayed still, curled up into a ball as his breathing overtook all other sensation. Finally he opened his eyes and looked around. It took a moment before he realised what he’d landed on.
It was smoke, a cloud made entirely of sooty vapour acting as a catch net and by the look of things he’d fallen through a few of them during descent.
“It worked! I can’t believe it worked!” Drill shouted.
Comet struggled to stand, his limbs were like jelly and every breath made him fit to gag and cough. A pair of pegasi climbed inside and helped the colt to his hooves before leading him off the smoggy mass.
He was positively covered in soot, from head to hoof the boy looked like he’d just cleaned a chimney, but that didn’t stop Drill from rushing forward and offering a hug.
A hug Comet didn’t hesitate to take before crying his eyes out.
Drill could see it now, Comet’s false wing was some kind of homemade prosthetic held together with string, tape and blunted nails. Spare cloth made up the mainsail but there was no mechanical method for it to extend let alone actually function. It was little more than a piece of scrap all but tapped to his stump.
Did Comet think it’d work just by virtue of Pegasi magic?
By all means Drill could see the child-like logic he’d used, artificial limbs were commonplace for the disabled.
Wings on the other hoof? Not so much.
Where’d he get the paint or materials for it to convincingly pass off as a wing Drill couldn’t fathom, but as he sat there watching the boy cry, he felt no ill-will toward him.
“He lost something important and wanted it back, just like I did…”
Ponies all around were mumbling to themselves, some were cheering, exchanging looks or having private conversations. But none of that mattered right now, not even the ponies questioning him or addressing the newly arrived guard patrols.
All that mattered was Comet.
Twice now he’d evaded death by Drill’s intervention, and twice now Drill had proven himself. Once he knew what had to be done it was a simple matter of organisation and quick thinking, both skills a Forepony would have.
At least now he’s certain he’s amended whatever public reputation he had.
“Comet? I’m not angry with you but please, don’t do that again.” Drill looked down into the colt’s eyes as his well dried up. “Okay?”
The soot ridden colt looked up at him with tear streaks made visible by the black dust. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair! I wanna fly with the stars again!”
“I know it’s not fair, Comet, things rarely are.”
“I want my wing back, I want my wing back!” The poor colt was crying, his tears washing away some of the soot on his face.
Drill only held him tighter as he replied. “I’m sorry Comet, if I could give it back I would. But right now you need to promise me you won’t try that again, okay?”
Comet tried replying but felt the words die in his throat, instead hastily nodding.
“Good, now let’s go get you cleaned up, shall we?”
As far as good deeds go, rescuing a cat from a giant metallic tree spitting out steam wasn’t one he expected today…
Comet Trail and Drill Bit stood outside the door to his apartment.
A day had passed since the incident with the Generator and Drill had every intention of making sure it would be the last Comet had to spend at the orphanage. He even went as far as to assist with the renovations himself, much to the protest of his aching muscles.
Drill produced his keys and turned to the young colt, who clutched his Luna plush under an arm. “Ready to see your new home?”
“Uh yeah! But are we going to sleep in the same bedroom?”
A smile graced Drill’s lips as he twisted the handle.
“Oh don’t worry, I won’t be far.”
The colt was timid for sure, but Drill could sense his optimism as he pushed the door open and revealed his newly renovated apartment.
Where as before it was just a living room and a bedroom, now there was an extra bedroom for Comet, if at the expense of the other two’s floor space. The result was each room was now only roughly five hooves wide and ten hooves long not accounting for furniture.
The door to Comet’s bedroom was right in front of him with Drill’s door on the far left and the bathroom on the right. The living room itself was now more of a multi-purpose as on one hoof it had its coat racks and a small chest for boots, but then it had a mini-kitchen and supply cabinet tucked right beside the bathroom door. So it was sort of up in the air what it should’ve been called.
Drill walked inside and held the door for Comet who slowly and cautiously entered, like a curious cat taking in a new environment. Looking around like an avian darting their sight, until Drill tapped on the door directly opposite the entrance.
“And that’s your new room, go ahead, have the honours.”
“My…room?” At once Comet was struck by equal parts excitement and wonder as he approached, with Drill all too happy to open the door for him.
Comet stepped inside and scanned all across the space.
There was a generously sized bed with a steel frame sat beside a curtained window, allowing some natural light into the room even if it was dusk at most. Additionally, a chest of drawers for clothes, some shelves with little knick-knacks, he even had his own little bookcase! Which Drill had partially filled for him.
Comet pranced inside giddily, panning around with stars in his eyes as he inspected…just about everything. Never did Drill think the simple act of opening and closing a draw, or jumping on top a bed would bring such joy to a colt, yet here he was happily neighing!
“I have my own room, I have my own room!”
Drill failed to suppress a hearty laugh as the colt celebrated.
“Fifty bits well spent, shame, I’m gonna miss having the bathroom all to myself.”
All things considered it was a worthy investment, living in a foreign environment would've been stressful enough for poor Comet. Heck, sleeping in the same room wouldn’t have been just uncomfortable, the thought of it felt…wrong.
Celestia forbid Drill didn’t want anypony getting the wrong idea about them.
“Ponies can be so paranoid nowadays.”
He considered himself lucky, not everypony in New Canterlot had the luxury he did. A ten hoof room might’ve been all some ponies had to come back to, assuming they weren’t sleeping in bunks or cell housing.
But seeing Comet roll around his bed hugging his Luna toy was precious, simply precious.
Drill walked in and sat down beside the bookcase, where he began flicking through the various volumes. He’d practically moved a third of his books over to fill this out, and that was on top of the few new ones he’d managed to snag from the surplus store.
It was still a decent collection, but there was one book in particular he was looking for.
“Gotcha, hey Comet!” The pegasus ceased his turbulent rolling and looked his way. “Fancy some bedtime reading?”
Drill then held up a book with a cover depicting a shooting star, proudly displaying Cosmology and Constellations for beginners.
If the little white freckles on his face could gleam they would’ve lit up so, and his smile grew so much one could’ve fit a crescent moon within. Comet sat up as Drill wandered over and took a seat, the night sky taking hold over the horizon with the Generator in view from the window.
Hopefully, It would be the first of many bedtime tuck-ins.
Author's Note
Weather teams work tirelessly to help combat the worst the Frostland's weather can throw at them, but they are by no means able to outright prevent harsh weather like they used to.
Living space is a luxury in New Canterlot as the majority of residential buildings are packed tightly around the Generator to gain the most benefit from it. It's not uncommon for a family of five to share the same bunkrooms.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
The next day had both Drill and Comet pranced through New Canterlot streets.
It was an unusually sunny day which only brightened Drill’s typical sour mood. But even without all that, there was something so endearing about having Comet ride his back to work. He’d dare say it but he felt a fulfilling joy taking care of the colt, seeing him smile, tucking him in, helping him eat breakfast without either his wings.
Put simply, it felt special.
As he stepped to the side to dodge the morning Automaton, his moment of patience allowed him to see the twinkle in Comet’s eye, his jaw-dropping as he watched the metal strider walk by them with awe.
Drill had to suppress a chuckle, it wasn’t that long ago he too was humbled by the machines. On one hoof he longed for being able to experience that childlike wonder again, but on the other he was already experiencing something new, something fresh and fulfilling.
“Is this what it feels like to have a kid? ” He thought, sharing Comet’s grin. “I think I could get used to fatherhood.”
Not long after they arrived within the agricultural district, a whole section of the city dedicated to feeding its populace. With the predominant buildings surrounding them being the life sustaining Hot Houses.
All around them the duo were flanked by large steel frames fitting thick, specially treated glass that didn’t frost over. Greenhouses warm enough that the duo could see ponies walk around in only light clothing, and with enchanted magical crystals to act as sunlamp bulbs.
There were some of the only places ponies could go that weren’t freezing and somewhat a reminder of how the world used to be.
The buildings were lined up in rows with ponies pushing sealed carts to and fro. Containing seeds, fertiliser, spare parts, freshly picked veggies, and many more Drill couldn’t list.
“Mr. Drill Bit, is this where we’re going to work?”
“In one of them yes, number…thirty-four if I remember correctly? Keep an eye out Comet.”
“Sure thing!” Comet then got up and spread his wing.
In a moment Drill braced and managed to catch Comet as he jumped off and nearly face planted to the ground, instead being gently set down.
Comet groaned as reality kicked in. “I hate not being able to fly.”
“I know Comet, I know. Let’s just try to get through today as best we can, you’ll see, being on the ground isn’t so bad.”
“How do you know that when you’ve never been in the air before?” Comet said unamused.
Drill leaned back in surprise and began rubbing his neck. “Well uh…at least you're not at the Ore Plant anymore, are you?”
Comet paused for a moment, “N-No, no I’m not.” Before looking up to him with a smile. Drill shared in that and the two went off again, this time without any more issues as they soon found the Hothouse.
Drill led them through the foyer and punched their cards, already feeling warm air being blown into the reception via a vent. He had to suppress another bout of laughter as Comet’s mane blew around without direction, something the colt seemed to notice and take joy in.
When the two actually entered the Hothouse proper it felt like walking into a spa.
The air was pleasingly hot (as expected) and humid, with no shortage of light from the overhead lamps. Rows and rows of vertically stacked grow beds lined the walls and mid-section of the greenhouse, stretching until they reached the opposite end of the building.
Already the earthy smells of soil, vapour and compost greeted their senses and Drill felt as though he was breathing fresh air again. Nevermind the metallic tinge nor shifting machinery audible from the other rooms, this felt good, it felt natural.
It felt like home.
The two waited a while and soon somepony came over, having heard the entrance cycle. She was an earth pony easily in her twenties, featuring a pale yellow coat and apple red mane with a little bow in the back. Tall enough for Comet to tell she’d overtake Drill in a top shelf reaching contest every time, which prompted a quiet grin.
Not only that but her denim overalls, while well kept, were caked in soft grime and muck while the mare herself offered a welcoming smile.
If the word farming were a pony, it would be her.
“Howdy Fellas! I’m Applebloom, ah take it yall are ma’ new greenhooves?”
“Ah yes, good morning! I’m Drill Bit and this is my adopted son, Comet Trail.” Drill smiled as best he could, but he still had to force himself to say it. He knew he’d get used to calling him son in due time, but the initial feeling of awkwardness had to be overcome.
“You seem surprisingly young for a Forepony.” He added, noting again that she barely looked into her twenties.
“Well when ya big sister’s the Element of Honesty, ya tend to draw favours.”
“Wait, you’re sisters with Applejack?!” Drill exclaimed, mind again drawn back to the time before the Frost.
“Yep! Been farmin’ with her since ah was a filly! Fun fact, didja know she helped Princess Twilight design the Hothouses?” Bloom raised an eyebrow.
Drill recoiled and almost fumbled his words. “Uh-no! No I did not!”
“Ha, well now ya do! Have fun with that lil’ insight.”
He looked around the room anxiously, already feeling somewhat shy being around just an element barer’s sister. Was this what it was like seeing a micro celebrity? Either way Comet was barely containing himself seeing Drill fumble so much.
“Is she here? Applejack I mean.”
“Fraid’ not partner, ain’t seen her since the Great Storm.” Bloom’s smile waned and her voice dropped, now tinged with grief. “Shame really, was hopin she could join me…”
Drill knew that look, it was one he had himself at one point. With newfound sympathy “There’s a pony I wished could’ve joined me as well, but the best we can do is move on.”
“Yeah…yeah! She wouldn’t have wanted me ta moop ‘bout her all day long. Now let’s see about gettin’ you two-” Applebloom’s otherwise cheery smiled quickly vanished into shock when she saw the casted stump where Comet’s wing should’ve been. “-Oh you poor thing!”
Applebloom snapped back to Drill Bit. “What the hay happened?”
“Let’s just say I used to be an Ore Plant Forepony and leave it at that.”
The farmer stared at him for several seconds before connecting the dots, and turned back to Comet who now seemed somewhat frightened of her. Without missing a moment she stepped forward faster than the colt could react and enveloped him in a tight hug.
Now it was Drill’s turn to grin as Comet was caught up in a vice that was just a little too tight for him.
It was still heartwarming to witness though as Comet sheepishly tried to return the love, despite his cheeks being the size of tennis balls.
“There, now why don’t ya help me spread some fertiliser ‘round? Drill? Can I trust ya to keep the carrot section fed? Just top off the plant feeders and sprinkle in some magic, I'll check in soon.”
Drill Bit nodded and headed off…
Only to realise he had no idea where he was going.
“Uh, Ms. Bloom? Do you know where-”
“Just look fer signs!”
Drill mentally smacked himself in the head at such an obvious answer.
“Signs, got it, this place has those.”
He wandered around for a bit taking in the sights and smells, he’d honestly almost forgotten what fresh plant matter smelled like and took his time, indulging a little. At some point whatsoever was he tempted to take a bite, not at all! Absolutely none!...
“I’m going to enjoy having my full ration after this, dear Celestia I need it.”
After passing by a dozen or so other workers he found the carrot section and by the sun it wasn’t small. A whole section of the Hothouse was lined with darkly painted grow beds full of green and brown, occasionally broken up by specks of orange.
Each grow bed was pushed forward slightly more than the one above it so they could all catch some sunlight, forming a steep staircase of vegetables.
He counted each grow bed rack to have about ten beds, with up to ten racks from one wall to the other and there being about five rows in his section alone.
“Five hundred racks…welp, just because it’s safe work doesn’t mean it’s easy. Best get started.”
Hours ticked by as Drill went to work trying to keep them all topped off. Thankfully each rack had a control panel which he could use to have them shift positions in case he couldn’t reach the taller ones. Mixing the plant feed was easy enough and using Earth Pony magic was something he’d learned in elementary.
But it all took time, a lot of time. He knew with practice he’d speed up and find shortcuts but he wasn’t even halfway done when he was shaken by a scream. A shrill, young scream he was uncomfortably familiar with.
“Buck not again!”
Drill set aside a jerrycan of plant feed and dashed off towards the scene, rushing around other workers and through different sections.
What was it this time? A giant carnivorous plant? A swarm of insects? Maybe a strangleweed somepony mistook when swapping seeds around?
Why did his mind immediately go to such horrible scenarios?
Whatever the case, Drill didn’t put himself through a rock throwing competition with bucking Iron Might just to lose it all on the first day.
Only when Drill arrived did he see several things going on. Comet was being restrained by a worker, pulled away from a grow bed that had half its contents spilled onto the ground. Something long, blue and feathery was sticking from the bed half crumpled.
Drill’s stomach sunk to his hooves when he realised what it was.
“How in the buck did anything survive the crusher? Shouldn’t that be mincemeat!?”
“No! Let go! I want my wing back!” Comet protested, kicking and bucking as the larger earth pony tried to pin him to the ground. By the looks of it Comet was trying to dig the rotting limb out from the compost layer and in the process would’ve tore up an entire growbed of baby lettuces.
“Comet, please calm down!” Drill insisted, yet the grieving pegasus refused to listen and continued thrashing. The two ponies bounced around from one rack to the other until they neared a table, Comet’s free wing partially blinding the stumbling pony.
“Yeah what he said! Come on kid, before you hurt somepony!”
As if on cue, the two smacked into that table knocking its contents over to the ground, which included a still active chest mounted slow burner that flew through the air.
Drill watched in shock as it crashed against a metal frame, shattering its glass and spilling its fiery contents onto one of the freshly composted lower grow beds.
In an instant the whole bed exploded into a flurry of flames, causing a chain reaction that set off the one above it, and the next, and the one above. Soon the whole rack was gushing smoke and Drill scrambled away, seeing the horrified faces of both Comet and the worker with him.
“Okay that does it!” Drill raced towards a nearby fire box and pulled the door so hard it was nearly torn from its hinges, reaching for the shimmering blue cooling crystal inside. If he weren’t wearing boots his hoof would’ve went numb from exposure alone and in mere moments he returned to the blaze.
His eyes burned and he held his breath as the inferno raged, threatening to consume more of the nearby racks and potentially detonate the Hothouse itself.
But he’d have none of that as he cocked his hoof back and threw the crystal with great strength.
An explosion of vapour threw all parties prone and the tropical air cooled to a chill. Crystal like ice climbed up and engulfed the flames wherever they stretched, entombing the entire rack and then some. Even just the water droplets in the air glistened as Drill climbed to his hooves.
He didn't know how they worked, but the enchanted ice looked as though it had been flash frozen the fire itself.
“Comet. Trail!” Drill raised his voice, before immediately lowering it back to room volume. “Please come here.”
Shuddering from fear, the colt complied and slowly walked passed the solid block of ice that now held his wing. Until now he’d never seen Drill Bit angry and the hard glare he now casted made him feel tiny . Guilt weighed him down just as much when more ponies arrived to see what’d happened.
By the time he’d reached Drill Applebloom had pushed through the crowd she was positively red with rage.
“What in tarnation is goin’ on here?!”
Drill darted his eyes up at her and spoke plainly. “Comet found his wing…”
“Huh?” Drill would nod towards the ice block and after a moment, she’d see it. A frozen object stuck out of the melting glacier vaguely resembling such. She’d then look towards Comet who was quivering and tear-stricken.
At once she was racked with shock and confusion more so than anger. But then the worker who’d restrained Comet raised a hoof.
“Ms. Bloom? The kid was digging up a lettuce patch. If I didn’t do anything he’d have ruined it.”
“And who forgot to extinguish the slow burner on that table?” Drill retorted.
“Both of ya!”
Aside from the usual hums of machinery, the room went dead quiet as Applebloom stared angrily at the worker. “Had ya not wrestled the colt,” She spoke slowly, “we’d still have the damn rack.”
The worker immediately shrunk under her gaze, while Applebloom shifted attention back to Drill.
“Now did anypony get hurt?”
“No Ms. Bloom,” Drill answered, “but may I ask for five minutes with Comet? I need to talk to him.”
The farmer cast her glare at Drill Bit, which for all of Iron Might’s abilities, couldn’t hold a candle to the mare’s own icy gaze. “Yall are damn lucky, that ma sister taught me to be so tolerant.” She breathed in. “Five minutes, once you’re back ah want this cleaned up like it didn’ happen. You’re on the clock.”
With that Drill wasted no time ushering Comet away from the area, trying to find somewhere low traffic with some modicum of privacy.
He didn’t have to get far and when he did he looked him dead in the eyes.
“Comet, I’m not saying I don’t understand, but what you just did wasn’t okay.”
Already barely holding together, those few words were more than enough and Comet broke down. Running up and hugging Drill’s leg he whaled a river of tears. “I want my wing back, I want my wing back, I want my wi-hing baaa-haaack!”
Drill sighed. “Why is he so obsessed with flying again? I mean I get it, but this is a lot, even for a colt.”
His mind went over all that had happened and struggled to piece things together, trying to find something to explain it all.
“Maybe…maybe this runs deeper than I thought it did?”
He knelt down and hugged the young colt, patting him on the back for good measure as his cries were muffled by Drill’s clothes. Asking immediately wasn’t the right call with him so upset, but they only had a few minutes so Drill would have to expedite things.
Still, giving him a chance to at least pour his stresses out was best.
And so Drill did just that, gently rocking from side to side enveloping him in a tight hug. It did make him wonder just what the odds were that he’d stumble upon his own dismembered wing being used as compost? He could imagine the graphic image Comet had just been exposed to, the rotting flesh and disfigured bones.
“Come to think of it, does New Canterlot have a Graveyard?” Drill looked towards one of the nearby racks as morbid curiosity set in. “How many bits and pieces of other ponies are in those things?...”
The thought and image quickly made him feel queasy.
“Maybe working at a Hothouse wasn’t such a good idea after all, a bit late now though.”
At last Comet’s flood dried up and his muffled wails returned to mere whimpers. His facial fur was damp and his eyes pink with emotional burn, but he was coherent.
Drill had to be quick, they didn’t have much time left.
“Comet? May I ask something personal?” The colt turned to him and meekly nodded. “Why do you like flying so much? I know you’re a Pegasus and all, but you seem quite attached to it.”
Comet hesitated, struggling to get the words together right after a breakdown. Drill worried he might not be able to say it in time and for that, he was becoming increasingly nervous. Thankfully though that didn’t stop Comet from trying.
“W-When Mo-Mommy a-and D-Daddy…l-left …I got really sad, s-so I started ff-flying, and it made me feel better.” But now I can’t fly anymore…” Comet’s lip trembled and his shut tight, “I c-can’t…”
“Oh Comet you poor colt, no friends, no toys, nopony to turn to. I should’ve known the moment Rose told me.”
Drill sat down and placed both hooves on his shoulders, keeping his voice low and sincere.
“I know Comet but this, this has to be the last straw. It was a miracle nopony was hurt, but if you keep clinging to the past it’ll ruin only your future.” Drill paused to wipe a tear from Comet’s eye.
“I lost somepony important to me once before and for a time I felt lost, tiny, like nothing mattered anymore. But it’s the memory of those you love that’s most important, not the void they create afterwards.”
“R-Really?” Comet’s eyes widened in surprise at the idea.
“Applebloom said it herself, her sister wouldn’t have wanted her to sulk all day because she’s gone. As long as you’re able to push past that, you’ll be unstoppable.”
Comet appeared to perk up at that, his ears rising and his tail unconsciously wagging around. Drill smiled, ready to continue. But just as he’d opened his mouth the clock ran out.
“Drill Bit! Comet!” Applebloom’s voice sounded through the building.
“Bucking damnit.”
Drill groaned, partially from the moment being ruined and partially because he wasn’t sure everything was ironed out yet…nothing he could do about that now sadly.
“Ugh, we’ll have to talk about this later.” Drill sighed. “But have I helped?”
“Uhm…yeah! I feel kinda better now.”
The stallion smiled at that and without further delay, they went back to work.
Author's Note
New Canterlot does not use cemeteries...
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
CH 14 - "You're an idiot."
Helping Comet get packed and ready for work was an act Drill didn’t expect to be so gratifying.
It was the kind of feeling where he could envision himself walking him to school on a nice spring day. Sun to his back, wind in their manes, and the gentle brustle of nearby trees to accompany them. It was a nice fantasy for him to imagine, if only for a precious few moments.
In truth, he still felt shaken from the night before and anxiety had sunk its teeth into him. There was no stopping him from taking them to work, he was too stubborn for that, but his late-night encounter had him on edge and though he didn’t comment, Comet could see as much.
“He’s probably still a little sad after last night, hopefully he feels better later.”
A sign on the building’s main entrance set the precedent already.
URGENT NOTICE!
Weather stations have picked up a storm headed our way. No, it’s not another Great Storm but It’s set to hit us early evening. Everypony please take care to stay warm and avoid travelling outside after standard work hours, thank you!
“Please don’t let it be one of those days.” Drill grimaced, again recalling the owl the previous night.
The thermometer read no better at well below minus thirty. They’d have to keep their time outside brief, but such a thing was familiar by now. So with a deep breath, the stallion braced himself and the two walked out into the cold.
“First order of business, breakfast.”
Three vastly different diamond dogs stood together in an alleyway. At the end leaning against the wall facing the street was a shorter Pitbull. In the very back he was shadowed by a massive, hulking Greyhound and in the middle of the two extremes was an impatient Doberman.
“Do you see em yet, Scout?”
The pitbull turned towards him and answered with a scratchy, high-pitched voice. Like hearing nails scraping along a chalkboard. “Not yet Kade, I’ll let you know when I do.”
Kade looked back unamused and began flipping a small, crystalline coin made from amethyst. Inscribed with the image of a queen on one side, and a number on the other. Before long, however, he grew bored and turned to the wall of muscle standing behind him.
“How are you holding up you big mutt?”
The brutish Greyhound only spoke two words, but they were heavy, low and with an accent thicker than cement. “Terry hungry.”
“Hang in there, we’ll get chow soon.”
There was a moment of quiet as Terry stood hunched over and stared at him, the cogs in his brain failing to function. “What is chow?”
“Food.”
“Ah yes! Terry like food.”
Kade rolled his eyes, he didn’t blame the Greyhound for being slow, that was just part of the territory. Thinking was his job anyway, but sometimes it irritated him.
Hopefully, this would be a quick and easy job.
It didn’t take long for him to begin flipping his coin again as they waited. Minutes ticked by and for a moment Kade doubted they’d ever see them. But then Scout turned and darted into the alleyway, nodding to Kade who turned to the brute.
“Terry, there’s two ponies passing by, grab the little one with only one wing.”
“Little one? Only one wing?” Kade nodded. “Okay.” He plainly spoke.
Terry moved past them and with every step there was an audible thump barely above that of the busy street outside. Very few if anypony were bothering to turn and look to the obscure alleyway they’d picked, and it was for that reason Kade had picked it.
It would be easy, just wait, let Terry’s iron grip snatch the kid and book it before they were shot.
The group didn’t have to wait long for their moment of truth and Terry threw his massive hand forward, easily enough to engulf a typical pony’s head before pulling away again.
But as the other two prepared to dash they saw what Terry had in his hand, he turned to them and smiled.
He was the only one smiling, however.
“Terry…” Kade spoke.
“That’s a rubber chicken.”
The hulkish Diamidian looked at the comparatively tiny yellow toy, featuring a discoloured patch of stitched-on rubber where its wing should’ve been. “You said little one with wing, this was the littlest one I saw.”
“That’s not what we!-oh nevermind.” Scout gave up and walked away, shaking his head, and blaming himself for not being more specific.
Just then a voice from the crowd called out to them. “Hey! Give Boneless back! He’s been through enough!”
He turned around and looked at the pony before returning to Kade, who nodded with approval. “Oh…sorry.” He gave back the toy and slinked into the alleyway, regret for failure clear as day on his face.
“Terry?” Kade craned his neck to face him.
“You’re an idiot.”
The walk to work had been mercifully uneventful, though that just meant Drill had to keep guessing what would come next.
Breakfast was okay, with no poison or poorly cooked food and Comet was doing alright. They clocked in at the Hothouse ten minutes early even! Likely a result of their desire not to stay outside, everypony was rushing around to get out the cold today and Drill couldn’t blame them.
But now came the time for the two to split and do their respective duties. Drill was picking up where he left off with the carrots while Comet had been reassigned. Now instead of mixing with dirt, he was washing off freshly picked veggies.
It was boring work to be sure but it was easy, he couldn’t nor wouldn’t want to be the one mixing compost, knowing what exactly went into that stuff. Washing grime and grit off cabbages and carrots did at least feel nice thanks to the abundance of warm water, and given enough time he could see himself enjoying it even.
He missed playing with water, when was the last time he went swimming again?
Probably too long ago if he couldn’t remember it.
After a while, Comet left for a bathroom break but on his way back he spotted something weird.
There was a piece of shiny paper sitting upon a large, pony-sized pile of unwashed cabbages which wasn’t there five minutes ago. Maybe the delivery pony had visited him in between and dropped it? Either way, he felt drawn to it and tried making out the text it read.
“Sil-va Sc-ra-ip…silver scrip?” He spelt out loud. “What’s a scrip? And how’s that silver? It’s paper!” He stared at it from a distance before looking around him. “Probably more adult stuff, maybe Applebloom will know?”
Comet scanned his surroundings, but try as he might, he found no sign of her anywhere, likely busy in other areas of the Hothouse. In fact aside from a few ponies, the room was oddly quiet.
Nopony would see if he took it, maybe he could and find who it belonged to? Silver was valuable, wasn’t it?
He looked at the piece of square paper intensely, wondering whether or not he should try being greedy, nice or neither, much to the anticipation of unseen eyes….
“Nah.” He shrugged, going back to washing cabbages.
Just behind the pile, however, was an incredibly angry Pitbull mere moments from lunging. Held in place only by the efforts of Kade. Scout was holding a large hooked cane that was now raised ready to strike, his mouth covered up to prevent an angry screech from shattering the anti-freeze-coated windows.
Slowly but surely, Kade paced away from their hiding spot and out the window they’d left slightly ajar.
Once on the other side and with no-creature to be disturbed, Kade let the Pitbull loose.
“Are you fucking kidding me, I had to sell so much origami back at Dogtown and that kid turns up his dumbass nose at it?! AAAAaaahhhh-”
The sound of rushing water and rough scrubbing reduced what would’ve been an earsplitting screech into little more than a muffled growl, that could’ve easily been mistaken for all kinds of innocuous things. Naturally, Comet ignored it.
“Those machines sure are loud sometimes.”
Back outside, Scout had finally emptied his lungs and sat huffing and puffing.
“Scout?” Kade addressed him.
“You’re an idiot.”
The evening foghorn signalled the end of shift and no sooner were Drill Bit and Comet on their way home.
Drill was unnerved the whole day. Usually, when the owl visited him the effects were either immediate or at least quick. Was the storm going to be what tested him? He had no way of knowing and that was the worst thing of all. It could be anything!
His distress wasn’t lost on Comet, it’d been apparent since this morning. But when Comet saw the way he kept looking up and watching his surroundings during dinner, he knew it wasn’t getting better.
Last night he asked Drill if he was okay and he said stuff, maybe it’d work again?
“Mr. Drill Bit?” He asked, riding on his back. “Are you okay?”
Drill’s ear twitched and he snapped his head around a moment later. “I’m fine Comet, just a little worried is all.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll do something stupid again?”
“No no, just…I’m scared. Something is coming, I’m not sure what it is and that in itself makes it scary.”
“Oh!” Comet realised. “And because you don’t know what it is, you can’t get ready for it?”
“Precisely.” Drill smiled, the kid was a lot more insightful than he gave himself credit for.
“Is there a way you can figure it out?”
“I think so but…I’ll admit I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“Maybe I can help? Ms. Rose always said projects are easier when more ponies work on them.”
Drill bobbed his head for a moment thinking. He was apprehensive about telling Comet about the magic bad luck owl that’s been chasing him for over a week, but if there was anypony he could describe madmare logic to and be taken semi-seriously, it would’ve been a child.
“Hmm, let’s get home first, then I can explain.”
Comet smiled and the two made their way home without another word. They could both feel the weather changing, the wind picking up, the pressure mounting inside their ears and by the looks of it, so did everyone else.
The term rush hour couldn’t have been more apt as ponies hastily made their way home. The pub was likely closed as was any other public venue or space and for good reason. The Great Storm had left some deep scars and nobody was in a rush to become the next great frozen art piece.
Drill and Comet were likewise, hurrying towards the front entrance of the apartment block hoping to shelter in for the evening.
But then it all happened so fast.
He heard a whistle off to his left and instinctively turned in that direction. Drill barely had time to register what he was looking at before a wave of scalding hot liquid was splashed across his face, eliciting a sudden cry of pain.
Next, something large and heavy doubled down and smacked him across the temple, sending him tumbling to the ground in a daze. He heard another cry and was barely able to register it as Comet’s, the ringing in his ears muffling all else.
A moment later he was able to open his eyes, seeing double but quickly refocusing on the world. He saw…Diamond Dogs? Yes, Diamidians for sure, and the largest one had Comet. Speaking of which, was it just him or was that one really, really big?
The intrusive thought was cast aside as instinct kicked in. “Comet!” He cried, climbing to his hooves to give chase. But the earlier attack saw him stumble and stagger and furthermore another one of them, a brown and black one saw him and pulled out something bright and blue.
It only registered to him a moment after it was airborne that it was a cooling crystal. “NOO-” He raised a hoof but was promptly cut off as the world flashed with blue light. He saw with horror as the three mutts descended underground, the whales and cries of a child growing dim.
The whole exchange took less than ten seconds.
Of course, it was only after seeing the Pitbull with the blue gemstone dotted collar that everything clicked into place.
“Drill Bit you fool!”
Nearby ponies rushed in different directions, some went to get guards while most began kicking away at the ice immobilising Drill Bit. With as many as a dozen all working to free him it wasn’t long at all until he was peeled free from his prison.
Even with his head swimming he still threw himself forward, pushing through ponies to frantically punch and scrape at the freshly filled tunnel the dogs had escaped through.
“NO NO NO NO NO!” It was of little use, his hooves could break stone as if plank but full-on digging was beyond him. “COMET!”
With one last punch, he fell to his side and curled up, barely able to hold back the flood of burning tears under his eyes.
“The blue gemstone, the Pitbull’s collar. Drill Bit you absolute idiot! The owl was there to warn you!”
“He’s gone…” The colt that he’d worked so hard to help was gone, ripped away from him so suddenly all because of his inability to think.
His world was falling apart. The screams at the ore plant, the petition he’d been arrested for, the renovations to his apartment, none of it had mattered in the end and neither did he.
The stallion named Drill Bit had worked tirelessly all his life to earn himself comfort and the Frost ended that dream. Then when he’d tried atoning and perhaps building some kind of legacy he wasn’t afforded that either.
It wasn’t fair…
It wasn’t right….
If tonight’s storm wanted to take him so be it, there was little reason to remain.
“Drill Bit?” A familiar voice called out.
It was enough to shake him back to the real world and he weakly turned his head up, where the young eyes of Smoke Stack met him. The guards of an entire station were right behind him, but they were too little too late.
“They took him, I’d only adopted him a few days ago and they took him Smoke.”
The guard quickly helped Drill up and looked him in the eye. “Who? Who took who?”
“Comet! Those bucking mutts just napped my kid Comet!”
Smoke took a step back as Drill pawed at the disturbed earth, clear shock surging through his system. But instead of moping he hardened his glare and knelt down.
“Hey Drill?” Their eyes weakly met. “I promise you, with my damn life if need be, that I will help you get that kid back.”
“H-How? They could be anywhere.”
“Yeah, anywhere in New Canterlot, don’t know if you’ve noticed but this ain’t exactly Manehatten. If they wanna run from us there’s only one place they could go.”
Drill stared at him, a spark igniting newfound hope that became apparent in his voice.
“Where?”
“The vehicle deport, the only place they could grab a Steam Hauler and get out of town with any chance in that storm.”
A glimmer of hope started to form in Drill’s stomach as a familiar voice echoed in his head.
“Push on Drill Bit! For a brighter tomorrow!”
Drill didn’t know if it was a mood swing, but with how quickly his fear and sorrow snapped it might as well have been. A new fire took its place and rapidly grew as he climbed to his hooves, his still tender face twitching as the cold brushed over his dampened fur.
“Take me there, now.”
Author's Note
Diamidian society emphasizes an ideal they describe as “finding one’s fortune,” which boils down to working hard and earning a better life. But this ideal isn’t widely known to the common pony so it's often mistaken for simple greed.
The term “bitch” and “mutt” aren’t considered derogatory to a Diamidian unless spoken with a rude tone or purpose. Instead, they are used much the same way ponies would say “mare” or “stallion.”
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Never before had Drill Bit run so fast.
Blurry buildings and snow-covered street corners whizzed past him without intervention, weaving his way around worried crowds trying to evade the oncoming weather.
Everyone could feel the storm closing in. The Diamidians didn’t have to deal with nearly as many obstacles, some underground piping and hard rock but a pre-dug tunnel would handwave all of that away. He could not, would not, let them get away.
Smoke Stack led the way, the younger athletic unicorn making short work of the city streets just as much as Drill, and behind him followed the other four ponies from the patrol.
While he may have had his reservations about the Neighborhood Watch after his trip to jail, such thoughts couldn’t have been pushed any further to the back of his mind.
Finally, they caught sight of the Vehicle Deport, a massive building that in many ways would’ve reminded Drill of the old Canterlot’s train station.
There was a large curved roof skylight with some fancy enchantment to prevent snow buildup, a nice clean entrance to give refugees and visitors a good first impression, and was about the only building bar Administration that had any modicum of flare to it.
But, by and large, it still shared little if any of the grandiose design to its Pre-Frost counterpart. Much of it was concrete, stone and unpainted steel bars where it was needed, mostly broken up by the city’s banners where they could fit.
The inside was much the same and Drill wasted little time taking in the sights. When he finally caught up with Smoke Stack his lungs burned from overuse and he had to take a moment.
Smoke meanwhile ran up and placed a hoof on the counter, panting between words.
“Tell the Trainmaster there’s been a foalnapping…all outgoing departures are to be halted immediately and tell them to start searching every car for a trio of Diamond Dogs!”
The receptionist behind the counter turned to him with a smile, chuckling as they did so. “Son there’s a storm comin’, all travel’s been halted anyway.”
“Oh thank the sun.” He dropped his head low, taking in a deep breath. “We need to get to the platform, customs can’t wait.”
With a nod, the desk worker tapped a few buttons and raised a series of mechanical gates. Still out of breath, Drill briskly followed at a trott over a gallop. The whole squad followed him through into a huge, cavernous station with several platforms, many of them housing vehicles resembling steam locomotives.
But while they shared similar appearances, these weren’t like the trains of old, powered primarily by ponies pulling them from the front.
Steam Haulers could ferry multiple cars much like trains, but could be steered in any direction without the assistance of a track, and had massive wheels with paddle-like protrusions for swimming through the snow.
It was yet another achievement of modern engineering, one that now threatened Drill’s future as a parent.
Just as they’d entered and Smoke prepared to bark another order, one of the engines churned to life. Bellowing black smoke from its forward exhaust, its wheels slowly turning as the mechanical beast awoke.
Drill pointed a hoof and roared between breaths. “Stop that train!”
He tried to push himself forward but his body betrayed him, having crashed from his adrenaline high, he was unable to keep moving beyond a simple jog.
The guards, however, fared much better and began to rapidly close in. A pair of Pegasi took to the air and descended upon the platform just as the Hauler picked up speed. Drill’s heart braced at what would hopefully be a swift rescue.
But his hopes were dashed when the locomotive side window slid open and the Diamdian that’d frozen him poked out...
Holding a large gun.
“Iiiiiiiit’s duck season!”
Both ponies halted and tried to turn for cover but the Doberman fired first, Drill couldn’t tell what kind of weapon it was but it was some kind of automatic and featured a drum magazine. Its simple, pipe-like design indicating Diamidian origin.
Everyone darted for cover at the sound of gunshots, hiding behind cargo cranes, boxcars and other machinery.
The two pegasi were not so lucky, one managed to hide behind a neighbouring box car whilst the other caught a spray of bullets, grazing her legs and tearing up her wings. There was a short but shrill scream as she tumbled and slammed against the boxcar roof falling further to the ground, her companion rushing to aid her.
Smoke grimaced as the guards began pulling out pistols and rifles, having met the conditions for justification of force. A sentiment Drill shared and before a gunfight could ensue he shouted at the very top of his lungs, threatening his vocal cords.
“Don’t shoot! There’s a bucking kid in there!”
It was just enough to be heard over the sporadic bursts of Diamidian gunfire, but without any further intervention, the Hauler was free to speed up.
No, he wouldn’t let that happen again.
Fighting his own body the stallion pushed forward and gradually sped up, ducking from crate to crate he approached the platform from directly behind, where the shooter wouldn’t see him coming.
It seemed to work as the Diamidian pulled back now that the train was leaving. His only hope now was to board one of the boxcars.
With little time to waste, he sped up and once more broke into a gallop, just barely managing to jump and cling onto the very last car.
Clinging on for dear life the stallion’s lungs protested, his hooves wrapped around one of the large metal handles. The hauler bumped and shook as the platforms were left behind and Drill stole his breath back.
“This is it Drill, three Diamond Dogs, one pony.”
Saying it to himself finally made him realise the situation he was jumping into and the possibility he’d fail…yet his own desire to protect Comet shoved that fear to the ground.
“I’m going to make them regret this.”
Drill slung the door open expecting to climb inside and away from the cold.
Instead, he was met by the hulking form of a Diamidian several times his size and weight.
“Boss says you no welcome.” He plainly stated.
A fist the size of a fridge slammed into his body, sending him flying through the air like a discarded paper bag before sinking into the freshly piled snow.
If the pain from before was a protest, now it’d turned into a riot.
His limbs refused to cooperate as his chest heaved. The sounds of the world muffled as he laid there hyperventilating, the demand far greater than the supply. All the while the sound of the wind gradually overshadowed the mechanical engine.
He'd failed, again.
Drill sat in a room wrapped in a warm winter blanket with a cup of hot water in his hooves.
Thankfully he didn’t fall that far from the deport and had been dragged back in before the storm hit, but now the dogs had disappeared, having used the storm as a cover.
It was incredibly foolish and dangerous, but it worked. Nobody was keen to chase them in these conditions and those that did would face mother nature’s wrath. An infinite grey void where the sun held no power and survival depended on artificial means.
Which now meant Comet.
Boarding the train alone was a dumb idea in hindsight. He had no answer for any more cooling crystals they had, the giant dog alone might’ve been too much and even if he got past all that, they had guns.
So for all intents and purposes, that punch had knocked some sense into him and likely saved his own life.
But Drill’s guilty conscience harassed him no less.
The possibility of never seeing the colt again was not only real, but now likely. The weight on his mind threatened to pull him down through the floor and the whispers were near deafening. His eyes laid heavy and every now and then his face would ache, an aftershock of the boiling water from earlier.
Smoke wasn’t far off, Drill could hear the young unicorn speaking to the deport’s trainmaster about something from another room, their words too muffled to make out.
Eventually Smoke would re-enter the room doing so with a semi-cocky smile.
“Feeling better old bones?” He’d cheerfully ask.
“Hardly, and I’m not old, I’m forty years experienced.”
Smoke chuckled and took a neighbouring seat. “Colourful way of putting it, the Captain’s just been informed of the incident and uh…”
The guard hesitated for a moment, not sure how to get the words out, before jumping to the point.
“He wants to speak to you.”
Drill’s eyes widened with not so much shock as mild surprise. Given his last encounter with the Captain, he was either about to be given the biggest dressing down of his life or was about to have a heartfelt conversation.
For his sake, it’d better be the latter.
With a grunt, he got up and shook the blanket off before reaching for the telephone box in the other room.
As static-ridden as he was the captain no less held his stoic tone and Drill braced himself for the moody coin flip.
“Captain, this is Drill Bit, you wanted to speak with him?”
“Indeed I did, to my understanding, a few Diamidians have just ponynapped the kid you came to me about the Hothouses about, correct?”
“Yes.” Drill gulped slightly, already fearing the next few sentences.
“And I’m also to understand that not only did they run off with a Steam Hauler, but shot up one of my guards in the process?”
“Also correct, most likely being treated as we speak.”
“Smoke told me about your attempted rescue.” Iron notably paused. “Would you be willing to try that again, if given the chance?”
Drill didn’t even really acknowledge the quick shift to an offer of aide, too focused on the task ahead. “I’m going to do what’s right if it bucking kills me.” Well Drill Bit, time to put your money where your mouth is.”
“Absolutely.”
There was another pause, this time much longer. Drill didn’t have to be looking directly at the Captain to sense his hesitance and to an extent he understood. There were many unspoken factors he was considering that Drill may never become fully aware of. He spent so long on it that Smoke even had time to walk in and listen.
After a solid minute, the choice was made.
“Listen up son, storms are no joke, so I’m not going to make anypony who doesn’t want to get lost chasing a rogue Steam Hauler if they don’t want to.” He again paused. “But I know you’re not going to take no for an answer, so instead, Corporal Smoke is going to get a Steam Sled, some equipment and the means to defend yourselves if need be, and you’re either coming back with the kid, or not at all.”
Drill was stunned, he’d been expecting to be completely verbally torn apart, and here the Captain was offering him as much aid as he could?
“To that end, you have my express permission to use whatever means necessary to get that kid back. Peaceful, or otherwise.”
Drill felt a lump form in his throat from that, and all he implied, though it was something he’d anticipated.
“Do I make myself clear?”
Both stallions turned to each other and nodded. “Yes sir!”
“Good, I hope you boys the best, over and out.”
Smoke nodded and made for the exit alongside Drill, walking out into a hall where several guards all sat and waited. Some with rifles, some without.
“Okay listen up! The captain has stated that all who wish to help rescue Drill’s son are welcome to join us, but due to the ongoing storm, I’m obliged to only take willing volunteers. I know it’ll be tough and I know at least somepony is going to get hurt, but it’s our duty to protect the ponies of New Canterlot from acts like this and we can only do such a thing together! So who’s with me!”
A long moment of silence followed the speech, only briefly broken up by a cough…
“Seriously? This is the part where you're meant to agree and help us!”
“Buddy there’s a storm out there and I got two kids of my own.” One guard replied.
“If I get lost the snow’s gonna ensure I’m never found again.” Said another.
“Did you see what they did to Ms. Birch? Unreliable or not, those guns are scary!”
They continued providing reasons and excuses, some more justifiable than others, but to Smoke it may have well devolved into unified mumbling for all the good it did. Drill nodded in sympathy and patted his shoulder.
“Canterlot’s finest my bucking flank.” He mumbled through a facehoof.
Without further delay, they finished things up and Smoke led Drill towards an equipment storage. The deport wasn’t just used for Haulers as he soon found out.
Inside, racks and lockers were lined wall to wall. Contains dozens of items, from navigational equipment to weapons and tools, to ammunition and specialist items he couldn’t immediately identify.
But most notable of all was a set of lockers Smoke began opening.
Inside were a pair of suits covered in thick rubber tubing, leading to a boxy device that hung off the side. The suit itself was made of thick, insulative cloth with a ski mask, rebreather and goggles, all set to an arctic colour scheme with New Canterlot’s insignia stitched in monochrome.
Drill took the suit and curiously inspected it, “What are these?”
“Scout suits, about the only thing that’ll keep us warm for any amount of time outside.”
“Are these really necessary?” Drill lifted one of the metallic masks, looking less than excited at the idea of putting it on.
“Do you want the saliva in your mouth to freeze from inhaling arctic air? Or your eyelids to freeze shut?” Smoke replied.
“That can happen?!”
“From some of the stories I’ve heard, but those come from the Great Storm so maybe not. Willing to test the theory?”
Drill opened and closed his mouth a couple times before conceding. “Point taken.”
Drill quickly started taking the necessary equipment off the shelves, Smoke’s warning hanging over him.
“Maybe the guards had the right idea? Celestia knows I wouldn’t want to go out there but here I am.”
The two helped each other dawn their suits, a task made particularly finicky by the rubber tubing and Drill’s lack of magic. But, with some persistence, it was on, however uncomfortable it was. He then turned to the attached device hanging off his side which housed several large buttons and gauges, the name Thermal Regulator displayed in bold text on the top.
Its name said everything that needed to be said and the controls were simple enough a dense pony like himself could operate it. The furnace was already full and the crystalline battery was neatly sealed. Upon activation he felt a flood of pleasant warmth wash away what chill he still felt, causing him to shudder.
Smoke then began sharing their equipment. A compass, tinderbox, tinned rations, the kind of stuff he expected to see in an arctic survival kit.
But then Smoke pulled out an unloaded pistol, a boxy mechanism with straps for the hoof and a magazine sticking out the side.
The lump in Drill’s throat got bigger.
“Ever fired a gun before?” Smoke asked.
“Never once, was kind of hoping to keep it that way.”
“Well, you’re better off having it and not needing it than the other way around.” Smoke then twisted it around to show Drill its underside, where a tiny gemstone lay. “That’s called a Trigger Gem, a simple enchantment spell that reads the user’s mind. The moment you will it, the gem activates the firing mechanism.”
Handing the weapon over, Drill eyed it cautiously, half expecting it to fire on contact.
“So much for intrusive thoughts I guess.”
“Oh don’t worry, it's not that sensitive. You really have to will it to fire, like actually want to hit something with it.”
Drill stared at the sidearm as Smoke secured it in place, unloaded for now but the implications were becoming very real.
And it left him to wonder.
“Do I really have the capacity to end some-creature’s life?”
Drill’s mind flashed with different memories. The poster of ponies walking through a meat grinder, the attempted enslavement of the kirins, the attack on him and foalnapping of Comet…
He liked to consider himself a non-violent soul, all his life he’d avoided or resolved conflict whenever it cropped up. Obviously, he’d had violent thoughts in the past, that was true of everypony, but he’d never acted on those impulses and had hoped to keep things that way.
But the thought of one day seeing Comet’s cutie mark on a box of meat stirred up something within.
There was a burning inside of him, a potent mix of anger and passion, a desire to protect and punish, driven by a determination he long thought lost.
Drill may have not been a parent for very long, but no force of nature or artificial failing would stop him from the one thing neither could ever replace.
Family.
Click
“Yes.”
Drill put his hoof to the side as the mechanism chambered the first cartridge, hopefully it was as safe as Smoke described. If it weren’t for Cazrel Manx, he might’ve just started forming some very strong opinions about Diamidians right about now.
“I don’t care how many times I’m going to save that kid, the Reaper will kiss my flank before I let him go.”
He turned to Smoke Stack as the soldier loaded up the last of his equipment and the two set out into the depot, quickly moving to a section typically off-limits to the public.
It was a garage and storage for several small vehicles. Self-propelled sledges with a central track lined with paddles and a steering wheel with two large handles with hoofholds. Large enough for a driver and a single passenger.
The nimble Steam Sled.
“So this is how we catch up to them? Hardly seems protective.”
Smoke moved up beside one of the sledges and opened a hatch on the rear, tossing chunk after chunk of coal inside. “Well I was hoping the others would join us, they would’ve given me the justification to use something larger but as it stands, this is the best we’ve got.”
Drill sighed as he approached before fastening an extra set of bundled-up clothing to the side.
What they were about to do was desperate, stupid, and possibly suicidal, but it was Drill’s only shot. Every time he thought about backing out he’d hear a familiar voice echo in his mind.
“Get out there and show em’ what you’re made of!”
He’d come too far to give up now.
Author's Note
With limited time and resources. New Canterlot can’t train new recruits to the standard of Pre-Frost guards. So instead its training program centres on extensive drills and preserving ponypower where possible. Ideally ensuring every guard member has basic medical training and is good at the few things they can do.
The Diamidian idea of quality is quite different to what other creatures think. Instead of long-lasting or high-performing, Diamidian technology is instead cheap but easy to repair and use. This extends to their military where their weapons often appear ramshackle and unappealing but are capable and dangerous regardless.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Everything had happened so quickly after the world went dark for Comet, one moment he was on Drill’s back ready to go home, the next he was underground in pitch blackness with a bag over his head.
Then he heard gunshots, screaming and lost track of time.
From what little he could gather, he was sitting down on the floor somewhere with his hooves bound, he heard an engine running, felt the world vibrating all around him and sensed some kind of force pressing against him, the same kind whenever Drill slowed down.
Was he moving? Instinct leaned on yes.
The bag over his head was suddenly pulled off and he shut his eyes, briefly blinded by the light. When he came to, there were three Diamond Dogs standing around all looking at him.
A big one on the right, a shorter leaner one on the left, and something in between in the middle. He looked to be the one in charge and stared at him with an evil smirk.
“Good evenin’ kid, any idea why yer here?” Kade asked.
Comet looked at the dog unamused. “Well let’s see, I’m tied up, you hurt Mr. Drill Bit and we’re travelling somewhere. I’m going to take a wild guess and say you foalnapped me.”
“Smart kid, kinda thought a colt like yourself would’ve been more scared in this situation.”
“Last week my wing was torn off by a machine that would’ve crushed me like a soda can. A few days ago I was almost splattered like a stream of tomato sauce and yesterday I nearly burned a Hothouse down.”
The room went dead quiet, all three dogs sharing mixed expressions of shock and even a little horror.
“The scariest thing about you is the way your breath smells. So why don’t you just let me go and we can call it a day?”
Both Scout and Kade stared at the kid with partial shock and annoyance. Terry meanwhile blew into his hand and sniffed, gagging briefly.
Kade sighed and met the colt’s gaze. “That’s not how this is gonna work kid, see we’re conducting a lil’ business and you? You’re our meal ticket.”
“Yeah and when the guards catch up you’ll be sorry. Bad guys always lose.” Comet said with firm confidence, only for the dogs to smirk.
“Oh you idiot,” Kade laughed, “See where we’re going, New Canterlot ain’t gonna find us, cus we’re not going to Dogtown.”
For the first time that conversation, Comet felt a tinge of fear and his eyes widened. Sensing that fear Kade continued.
“And even if yer pa did find us, I ain’t like the two mutts behind me.” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. “See where those two were forced to join the army and got rushed in because of it, I didn’t, I learned how to fight…”
“Oh no…” Comet thought. “He’s one of those bad guys.”
“So you’d better hope me and ya pa don’t meet, cus if we do.” He then slung forward what could be crudely described as a gun. An arrangement of cut and re-welded piping with a large rivet and spring for its cocking handle, and a bulky drum fitted just in front of the trigger.
“I’m gonna smoke him.”
Drill held onto the rattling frame of the Steamsled, the roaring of its engine like a chainsaw drowning out the howling winds. Their equipment repeatedly hit the hull with larger items, like Smoke’s bolt-action rifle, swaying in the wind. Smoke Stack likewise drove to the best of his ability given how little either of them could see.
The Steam Hauler had thankfully left faint, but visible tracks in the snow they were following. Even so, Drill still had his doubts.
“How are we going to catch up to them though? They only have a couple cars and Steam Haulers have powerful engines!” He had to raise his voice to near shouting just to be heard, further muffled by the mask.
“If they have any lick of sense they’d be driving slowly in a storm like this. Either that or Diamidians really are as dumb as I’ve heard. One large rock and the whole thing gets thrown onto its side.”
The thought sent a shudder through Drill’s body and he tightened his grip. “We can only hope.”
Several minutes passed as the two travelled through the snow, kicking up plumes of white behind them. All the while Drill’s nerves were racked with stimuli.
He couldn’t let it distract him, he would not let it distract him. He’d lost many chances to let this one slip.
Somewhere off in the darkness, he saw a dim light. One that threatened to be swallowed whole by the storm and in that moment Drill was struck by an odd sense of deja vu.
No, he wouldn’t let it happen again.
“There! I think I can see the Hauler!” He pointed with a hoof.
Smoke turned up the throttle and little but little, the light began to shine. Brighter and larger as it pierced its way through the heavy weather. Until eventually the two began to make out the shape of the rear most boxcar.
“Good eyes, Drill! I’ll pull us up to the side and hopefully they won’t spot us, won’t be long now!”
“Good! Poor Comet, I can’t imagine how scared he must be.”
“THIS IS THE SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYPONY’S NERVES, EVERYPONY’S NERVES! THIS IS THE SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYPONY’S NERVES, AND IT SOUNDS LIKE THIS!”
All three diamond dogs howled and whined with their hands over their ears as Comet’s voice wreaked havoc on their senses.
“Boss! Make small pony stop!” Terry moaned, his massive paws unable to block out the singing.
“Do we have anything to shut him up?! What about your belt?” Scout shouted.
“I am NOT giving you my belt!”
Smoke pulled up next to the boxcar behind the locomotive and maintained speed. “We gotta stop the hauler somehow, or this could get ugly real quick!”
“Have any ideas? I’m just a single earth pony and there’s three of them in there!”
“Why do you think I asked you? I need to make sure I don’t crash this thing!”
Drill looked at the Hauler with a scowl. If his prior experience taught him anything it was not to underestimate the Diamidians. All it would take is one well aimed shot or a single knockout blow and he was as good as dead. So trying to stop the engine from the inside was a fantasy at best.
“What about the outside?”
He scanned the locomotive’s exterior for anything to exploit. Drill wasn’t an engineer by any means, but anypony with a brain knew jamming up the wheels for any vehicle was bad. He pulled up his saddlebag and saw several items inside.
A compass, firestricker, first aid kit, tinned rations…
A Cooling Crystal
“Bingo.”
Drill withdrew the enchanted ice shard and turned to the Hauler’s wheels. “Could work, but stopping the wheels on this side alone this fast would cause a crash. I can’t risk Comet’s safety like that.”
Quickly his mind went over all he knew of the situation and what actions he could take.
“What if I put the engine out? That’d kill the Hauler’s speed but if it detonates the boiler it’ll tear Comet apart.” Drill groaned in frustration and turned back to Smoke.
“Hey! How well armoured is the locomotive compartment? I’ve got an idea but it’s a risky one!”
“Uh…well that depends, if it’s one of the first Haulers the city made then not very, but after having to deal with Diamidia they up armoured the whole thing. Why?”
“Do you see the Hauler’s exhaust funnel? I’m thinking of flash freezing the engine, but I need to assess the risk!”
Smoke turned to him and saw the Cooling Crystal tucked under his arm, then he looked to the locomotive for a time before shaking his head.
“I can’t tell, it’s a bad idea Drill you’d be flipping a coin!”
“Well I’m all out of good ones! So unless you wanna pitch in!”
Smoke shook his head and grasped the crystal with a thick coating of magic. “You sure you wanna try this?”
Drill hesitated, taking second glances at the Hauler and trying to wrack his brain for another idea. But he was coming up short.
They didn’t have time for this. Their suits could only protect them for so long in these conditions.
With his consciousness screaming and his limbs stiff, he conceded. “No, but I don't have much choice. Do it!”
Smoke nodded and ducked his head low, Drill mimicking him. The sled sped up and pulled close to the locomotive and Drill was nervous about being seen, any moment that window could open and they’d both get shot full of holes but…that didn’t happen.
They couldn’t see what was going on through the blacked out windows nor could they hear anything over the rumbling engines. But if the Diamidians were aware of them they didn’t respond.
Not wanting to waste time, Smoke steadied the sled and readied the crystal. He looked up to the exhausted funnel bellowing black stacks of smoke and focused. He’d have to contemplate the irony later.
“Ms. Miracle, be my mare!”
With a mighty toss the crystal was flung upwards and both stallions cheered as it tumbled down the funnel.
But the duo’s celebration was short-lived as soon after, the Hauler began to sway. Destabilised by their stunt the massive machine’s size was suddenly realised, and Smoke put the brakes on in hopes they could evade the train by simply slowing down faster.
The last boxcar however swayed too much and swatted the back of the sled.
Their vision became a distorted mess of monochrome colour as chaos unfolded around them. Control of the train was lost and a simple incline was all it took to finally tip the scales. The Steam Hauler flew upwards and landed on its side with the links connecting the boxcars being torn apart like metal chains.
Metal and wood splintered as the cars collided with each other, briefly showering the snow with debris.
As quickly as it started, the chaos stopped and everything came to a grinding halt. The hauler stopped sliding, cars stopped crashing as both Drill and Smoke were left face first in the snow.
Drill took a moment and patted his chest. His heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through his veins as his panic slowly died down.
Smoke meanwhile was faster to the uptick, picking himself up and reaching for his rifle near the now wrecked Steamsled.
They were on some kind of rocky plateau, with several exposed boulders scattered throughout in between pieces of wreckage. Half a boxcar here, a few warped wheels here, and some large rocks and cliff faces all around. All of it half illuminated by dim and dying blinking lights from where the Hauler had tipped onto it’s side.
“Drill Bit!” Smoke called whilst rushing to his side. “Are you alright? Anything broken?”
“A few bruises, but nothing I can’t walk off.” Smoke offered a hoof and helped Drill to his hooves, still shaken from the crash. “Come on, we need to find Comet!”
The duo began trudging through the deep snow towards the Hauler, deep enough it reached their barrels and half buried most of the wooden remnants of the boxcars. But they pushed through regardless, Drill’s racial strength coming into its own as he waded through much faster then Smoke.
Even so as they drew within a boxcar’s length of the locomotive, a loud bang suddenly sounded on the door and both of its hinges snapped instantaneously.
They both froze with Smoke readying his rifle, flaring his horn to amplify his voice to that or a dragon.
“By order of the New Canterlot Guard, you are under arrest! Come out unarmed and with your paws in the air!”
Despite his best attempt to remain stoic, there was no hiding the trepidation in Smoke’s voice. Even with both their faces covered in at least two layers of arctic gear there was no mistaking the look he had turned to face Drill Bit.
If there was a fight, they were outgunned.
“Do you think they’ll listen?!” Smoke shouted, though he had a pretty good idea as to the answer.
“Maybe….Unlikely….” Drill licked his lips. “....Probably not.”
As if on cue, the heavy train door was torn from its frame and used as an improvised shield by Terry, while Kade and Scout followed behind both armed with a submachine gun and revolver respectively.
All of them wore cloth wraps and goggles in a crude attempt to protect themselves from the cold. Already the difference was made clear as their appeal was quickly caked with snow. But their taller biped forms could just as easily contend with the deep snow they had to trudge through as they pushed forward.
Both stallions were struck with the same sense of danger and sought cover, Smoke ducking behind a warped metal frame and Drill behind a rock.
Their evasion was well timed as Kade leaned around Terry’s shield and fired a spray of bullets, chipping and ricocheting off Smoke’s hiding place.
“Aw what’s the matter ponies? Scared of a little gunfire?” Several more rounds spat out the dented barrel, until a crack signalled a failure in the ejection port which halted Kade’s onslaught. “Oh, mother!” He bit his lip.
Sensing their chance, both stallions rose from their hiding places and returned fire. Drill quickly found that he was terrible at aiming as his shots flew past the eight-hoof tall Diamidian, and even the shots that did connect with his shield failed to penetrate.
Smoke on the other hoof fared much better. The first shot sliced through the metal train door and a pained yelp followed.
But Terry didn’t break, he didn’t even bend.
Instead, he let out something in between a howl and roar,picking the door up with both hands over his head before throwing it at Drill, not realising he wasn’t the one who’d actually shot him. Smoke tried to fire a follow up shot but a couple loud cracks from Scout’s revolver threw off his aim and he ducked down again, cursing.
The rock Drill was behind meanwhile blew into a hundred pieces as the door crashed and crumpled into it, throwing the stallion back. He was afforded little time to recover as Terry rushed towards him on all fours, roaring as he did so.
“I will BREAK little pony!”
By the time he’d got to his hooves again Drill had to leap to the side to avoid an oncoming strike, which landed into and left a mighty dent into a cliff face. The stallion retaliated with a buck to the brute’s chest and immediately the oversized mutt began coughing and reeling, steadying himself for a moment before continuing his assault.
All the while, Kade continued having difficulties with his firearm. “Diamidian engineering at it’s finest my ass.” He mumbled, trying to pry back the jammed charging handle.
Drill ducked and dodged all he could but he was no athlete, and his retaliatory kicks and punches didn’t do nearly enough to stop the Daimidian. It slowed him down yes, but it was like trying to tear down a brick wall with a claw hammer and eventually Drill was struck.
A mighty blow to the shoulder sent him tumbling to the ground where Terry pinned him in place with a hand, cocking back his other, ready to punch his head into pulp…
Comet felt cold.
It was a feeling he’d become increasingly familiar with over the past few months but right now, he didn’t just feel cold, he was freezing.
One moment he was screaming pandemonium inside the Hauler, the next the room was flooded with steam and there was shouting, then the lights went out and it got really hot.
“Wait…”
What was he doing again? He’d been foalnapped, then there was a talk with some bad guy-
“Mr. Drill Bit! I have to help him!”
He tried to get up only to find his hooves were still bound. His wing was still free and nothing had been wrapped around his head so he looked around.
While dim, the inside compartment was still half illuminated by some flickering lights. Allowing him to see that a few floor panels had come undone or were partially warped and torn, creating several jagged edges.
Comet grinned and extended his wing, using it to push and shimmy his way over before grinding the ropes on the torn metal. In moments they came undone and he was freed, quickly rushing to all fours and out the door.
The first thing he found was that it was hard to see, he had to shield his eyes with a hoof and even then it was righteously cold outside. Already he felt fit to shiver from the sheer windchill blowing through his clothes. But he couldn’t, he had to help somehow!
Quickly he spotted two dogs shooting at someone behind a wrecked car and the big dog bullying someone else. He couldn’t tell who was who at a glance so he had to make a crucial choice…
Terry pinned Drill Bit in place with a hand, cocking back his other ready to punch his head into paste.
Or at least he would’ve had a pair of hooves not suddenly wrapped around his eyes.
Terry let go and began flaying about trying to grab the one winged pegasus that cling to his neck. “Gah! Get off tiny pony!”
“Comet!” Drill cried, slipping away for a moment to breathe as Terry crashed against the local terrain. Rocks and boulders were smashed up as he slimmed his back against them, kicking up debris and clouds of snow.
With Comet in danger Drill threw himself back into the fray and began punching him like he was a bag at the gym. Multiple cracks and crunches met their ears and soon the behemoth struggled to stand on his hinds, ending with a stong buck that sent him into a pile of scrap metal.
Comet couldn’t see the damage for himself but the dog was out cold, save for a protracted groan, and that was good enough for Drill who rushed to retrieve him.
Meanwhile, Scout and Smoke were playing chicken. The moment he tried raising his head to maybe fire off a shot he risked another of Scout’s bullet’s drilling a hole in his head. But the shivering pitbull didn’t have a steady grip and so far nothing had landed.
Smoke couldn’t wait, any moment Kade could fix his gun and his problems would only get worse. But his body didn’t want to cooperate and the involuntary hesitation was getting annoying.
“Five shots, typically revolvers, have anywhere between five to eight depending on calibre. If I can just get him to waste his ammo…”
Smoke turned to his saddlebags and began rifling through them, looking for anything he could use.
He didn’t have any other Cooling Crystal and he hadn’t packed any more special equipment with him for the sake of time. There was a tinderbox, small chunks of coal.
The tinned rations gave him an idea though.
“Hey Mutt! Nice aim you got there!”
“Shudup! I ain’t the one hiding like an Abyssinain!” Scout retorted.
“Oh, calling me a pussy now? I’ll show you!”
Scout saw a shape rise from the metal wreckage and fired, a sharp metallic clink meeting his ears and for a moment he looked on excitedly.
“Did…did I get 'em?”
Smoke then rose out with his rifle and Scout hastily tried firing, only be to met with the empty clicks of death. If his face weren’t covered up he’d see the smuggest grin across his face, a blown open box of food laying splattered in the snow.
“Shi-!” CRACK
A spray of blood blew out of Scout’s back, sending the dog down and out.
Kade stood unfazed as he finally fixed the jam and turned towards Smoke, who’d already chambered another cartridge. The two found themselves in an impromptu quickdraw as one raced to focus their weapon on the other faster.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
Drill and Comet turned to the direction of the gunfire and when they did Drill’s heart sank into the snow.
Smoke’s hood had been turned into a bloody mess with his body falling limp to the ground, splattering the snow with crimson. His body convulsed on itself as what was left of his brain fought to stay alive, but the effort was vain.
The world stopped for Drill Bit, his limbs locked up and his eyes didn’t blink. Had his mouth had more room it would’ve been left agap.
Unamused, Kade swayed away from the grizzly scene and over to the duo without so much as a second thought.
Comet once more spared Drill Bit as the colt dived into him, pushing them behind a large rock as another torrent of mismatched bullets threatened to end them. It was enough to shake Drill from his stupor and pull him back to the present. He turned to Comet and found the colt clutching a hind leg in pain, grinding his teeth together.
It was yet another nail delivered so freshly into his mind after seeing Smoke’s fall. In seconds memories flashed behind his eyes and fear flowed through his system.
He remembered the guard that had gone out of his way to make sure he returned home safely. Then furthermore help him here rescue Comet, but now he was gone.
Another victim of this screwed up world he and so many others found themselves in.
Drill looked at Comet’s wound and remembered the gore from the day he lost his wing, the blood splat across his face and the screams from when he fell from the Generator. Like that of a banshee coming to torment him.
And finally his mind intrusively flashed back to Copper Pan, the horrible accident and the bloody display it left. The exposed bones and torn tendons, the splintered wood and shattered limbs…
Comet’s pleas for help only added to the pressure mounting on his mind. It all became a distorted mess of noise and voices, screams and machines, a storm of emotions.
But in the eye of that storm, he saw a light.
“Ya don’t do these things because their hard-”
“But because their worth doing.” He whispered to himself.
Kade held his position out in the open with his gun trained on the rock, keen not to play with his food like Scout did, but growing impatient none the less. “Come on ya little shits! It’s cold enough out here.”
He suddenly heard an uncharacteristically loud cry from behind the rock- “You Bastard!” -before said rock was sent barreling towards him. Taken by surprise he barely had time to dodge or brace and his left side was caught, ripping the gun away from his grip and landing some lengths away.
Kade was then rushed by the stallion who’d since been filled with a terrifying resolve, caring little for if he still had that weapon. Instinct kicked in and although still reeling, Kade was able to prepare some kind of stance.
Drill crashed into him like a raging bull and his racial strength would’ve seen Kade get thrown like a ragdoll, but the Diamidian instead twisted and wrapped his arms around Drill’s neck, turning the stallion’s own momentum against him.
Both hit the ground and entered a brawl. Kade lost his grip on Drill’s neck and the stallion rolled out of his grasp, only to be met by a wolf-like lunge that saw the Diamidian sink his teeth into his arm, tearing the insulated fabric but failing to draw blood.
Twisting his hoof, Drill wildly fired off his pistol in a vain attempt to shoot him but the angle was too wide. The gunshots however wreaked havoc on Kade’s more sensitive hearing and he was forced to let go clutching his head.
With a clearer shot Drill bought the pistol up and-
Click Click
“Buck!” Drill scrambled to his hooves and not a moment too soon. Kade recovered and they both saw the same thing at once.
Kade’s sub-machine gun half-buried under a rock.
In an instant, both raced the other to reach it first but rather than going in a straight line, Kade charged into and body-slammed Drill Bit before throwing a clump of snow into his face.
By the time the stallion recovered and wiped his goggles it was too late, Kade had too much of a lead and ripped the gun away from the rock, raising it to level with Drill Bit.
But there was something notably absent from the gun and he quickly saw it. Judging by Kade’s expression he felt it to and checked under the frame.
The oversized ammo drum was missing, in fact it was still under the rock, pinned to the ground where the metal had torn.
Kade actually chuckled a little at the sight. Almost amused at the situation, though Drill could tell something was up.
“Yeah, okay I get it, Diamidian made stuff isn’t the best. But guess what’s in the chamber?” With a smug grin Kade levelled the weapon and without a moment’s hesitation pulled the trigger-
SNAP
-only for the bolt to jam once more.
Kade’s smug grin was wiped clean off his face as he turned to look where Scout had died, clutching his empty, but still working revolver.
“Ya know, in hindsight, I’ve made many bad decisions recently.”
Steam was positively fuming from Drill Bit and he reached for the boulder behind him. When Kade turned back he went wide eyed.
Drill was somehow holding a boulder twice Terry’s size.
“I. Have Had Enough. Of You Bucking Mutts!”
With only the might an Earth Pony could muster, Drill lugged the giant rock at the panicked Diamidian who turned to flee. But his efforts were in vain as with only a short bark, Kade disappeared under the hunk of dark grey stone.
And that was that, all the Diamond Dogs were gone and Drill stood frozen. The sounds of the wind overtaking all others once more and the weight of the act now his to bear.
But it wasn’t over yet.
They still had to survive the storm.
Author's Note
Snowsuits are specially made pieces of arctic gear typically employed by scouts, who are expected to stay outside the reach of any heat source for long stretches of time. Using a combination of thick, insulative clothing and a system of small tubes connected to a heating device to pump heated liquid around the body, these suits are highly sought after outside the cities.
Thermal Regulators act as the heavyweight big brothers of the common slow burner. Saddlebag sized devices produce heat equal to the ambient temperature to keep the user warm. More fuel is consumed to counteract colder weather.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Drill finished wrapping up Comet’s leg and put away the first aid kit. The Hauler’s boiler was as good as dead but the structure could still provide some protection from the wind.
Even so, the colt was shivering. If Drill hadn’t already lit a small fire the bandages might’ve already come loose.
The cold was brutally efficient at what it did. Without the same clothing and steam powered protection Drill had, Comet would’ve had maybe an hour to live. Assuming blood loss wouldn’t get him first.
So with a grim demeanour he ventured back outside and towards the body of his fallen friend.
Smoke Stack was already partially buried by the snowfall when Drill approached, only prevented by the still active thermal regulator pumping hot water around his body. Drill had the forward-thinking to bring a fresh set of clothes for Comet, but those were lost when the Sled crashed.
The only thing he could do now was make sure Smoke’s suit wouldn’t be wasted.
Drill felt numb, either out of emotional exhaustion or the cold finally creeping in. He stared at the open cavity in Smoke’s head and felt…nothing. No anger or horror, disgust or sadness.
Nothing.
Had he finally been subjected to enough it didn’t bother him anymore? Or did he just not have the energy to express emotion right now?
Sadly, he didn’t have the luxury or time to wax introspectively right now.
He sighed as he looked down at the body. “Thank you Smoke, I might not have known you for very long but…” Drill leaned down and pulled a pair of metallic tags off the guard’s neck. “I won’t let you be forgotten.”
Taking a deep breath in, he derobed him and pulled his body near the Hauler.
“I know this isn’t the grave you deserve but...” Drill’s mind flashed back to the dismembered wing Comet found. “It’s better than what New Canterlot will give you.”
He quickly buried what he could and erected a tombstone made from a piece of the local terrain, complete with a crude spelling of his name etched on. While Drill wished he could afford the time to carve something more deserving of the guard, time was a luxury Comet could ill-afford.
So with a heavy heart he walked back inside and laid out the bloodied suit for Comet to see, eliciting a chittered gasp from the colt.
“I know it’s a bit big Comet, but this will keep you warm.
“B-b-b-but it-it-it-it’s…” Comet’s eyes focused a little on the blood visible on the clothing.
“Trust me I’m aware, you’ll-” Drill swallowed his breath. “-just have to deal with it. If I could clean it I would.”
Comet was on the verge of tears just looking at the crimson stained hood, but already the warmth radiated from the suit beckoned him far more than the dying fire.
Biting his lip he allowed Drill to help him put it on. Working to fasten and adjust the suit where he could to better accommodate him. It was lengthy and uncomfortable but the two managed with some creative thinking, like wrapping the rubber tubing around Comet’s limbs as opposed to simply running the length of his hooves.
But even with that little crisis over Drill had another on his desk, that of going home.
“Do we hunker down and wait out the storm? Or try making it to New Canterlot on hoof?”
For an actual trained scout, or somepony who’s job took them outside the city the answer would’ve been easy. But for Drill it was opaque as roughly cut diamonds.
On one hoof, the Hauler provided protection from the wind and once the storm blew over it was highly likely somepony would come looking for them.
But on the other, there was no telling how long the storm would last. They could be here for days and run out of fuel before they saw the sun again.
They were expected, somepony had to be on the lookout for them and the closer they were to the city the better.
Drill’s shoulders laid heavy with the indecision weighing on him. It didn’t matter what choice he made, both felt wrong. But a decision had to be made and no amount of what ifs and hypertheticals could change that. The only pony he could ask for a second opinion was an injured eleven year old who’d never seen a maple tree before.
In this darkness, there was only one voice he could cling to, telling him to push forward.
“This is going to get us killed, but I’ll be damned if I just wait around for death to take me.”
Taking Smoke’s saddlebag and emptying it of redundant equipment, he searched around and filled it with whatever extra fuel he could get his hooves on. Taking from the Hauler, the remains of the sled, even scavenging what he could from the destroyed boxcars and filling the bag to capacity.
For him there would be no rest today, rest was the enemy.
Just like it was back at the prison.
Drill rentered the Hauler and picked up Comet Trail, giving the colt another piggyback ride. He’d gotten used to Comet’s weight by now, he wasn't that heavy.
“M-Mr Drill B-B-Bit? W-Where are we g-g-going?” He asked, teeth chattering.
“Home Comet, Home.”
An endless void was all that surrounded Drill Bit. There was no telling what time it was, only that no matter where he looked, darkness surrounded him.
He and Comet were blips in a vast, endless frozen ocean. One that threatened to whittle them away into nothing.
The life sustaining device mounted to him was working overtime to maintain his body temperature, every step was heavy and riddled with pain, his aching muscles protesting from exhaustion. Ice formed just as quickly as it thawed over his body, and every lump of coal thrown into the miniature furnaces was another ring of their death bells.
Worse still, he tried tracing his steps back in the direction of the city but any remnant of the sled’s tracks had long been snowed over, and his compass froze a mere minute after he’d pulled it out. The only lights he had were the ones from the thermal regulators and chest mounted glowlamps, which were dim at best.
He may as well have been blind. What point was there in pursuing the city if he’d mishoot it? In his haste he hadn’t taken this into account and now this mistake could cost them their lives.
It was deja vu all over again.
Soon they’d run out of food and fuel, lay exhausted and cold, waiting for death to bury them. Such thoughts only pushed Drill Bit further, but without direction he found the only virtue he could turn to was hope.
Hope, the eternal candle.
No matter how much he was tossed and turned by nature’s windswept wrath, no matter what pains his body brought on, or what torment his mind could conjure, he would not falter and he would not fall. For there was one flame within him that required only force of will for its fuel, and it burned as bright as a star.
He’d come too far to give up now.
Even so, he’d been presented with insurmountable odds.
It was a long walk ahead, but one he was prepared for.
What felt like an eternity had passed since they left the Hauler behind.
Eventually it did indeed get brighter as Luna’s dark blanket was withdrawn, but the storm still blinded them. Regardless, Drill pressed on, eager not to waste precious seconds of fuel.
Comet stirred and almost fell off his back, having briefly forgotten where he was and tapped his neck. “Mr. Drill Bit?” He squeaked. “I’m hungry.”
Without a word he stopped and reached into his bags to pull out one of only two rations. He and Smoke had packed light and he prioritised fuel over food when scavenging.
Drill couldn’t deny he was feeling the effects of hunger as well, and while Comet was important. If he didn’t keep his strength up it wouldn’t matter how well fed Comet was.
“Comet?” He craned his neck around. “I think it’s for the best that we share this. We don’t have a lot of food.”
It was near impossible to see the colt’s face behind the mask and goggles, and if he said something it was lost to the wind. But his nodding of agreement was communication enough and Drill let them sit for a few minutes to eat.
Afterwards it was back to their travel, his belly was left aching for more but that didn’t bother him. Half rations and hunger pains were only mild annoyances to him now. For another full day they walked, step by step, little by little, the storm grew darker all around them and Drill was forced to use his last ration for their dinner.
Sleep deprivation was taking its toll his body was driven more by muscle memory than conscious effort at this point. Never had Drill pushed himself like he was now and such was readily apparent.
Drill felt fit to collapse, his legs like brittle stilts numb at the hooves. His breathing was laboured and his eyes were as heavy as lead. The saddlebags that had once been laid with so much weight were now slack and thinly filled with black soot.
His very mind was tethering on the edge of consciousness. The night’s black void had returned and this time seemed intent on finishing them off. It wouldn’t be long before the regulators ran dry and the cold came to collect them.
Maybe this was it? After a heartfelt struggle and an outstanding display, he’d return to what from whence he’d came. Dust to dust, soot to snowflake.
He could feel it already, the cold embrace surrounding them as the wind relentlessly assailed them. His mind was a muddy bog for his thoughts to trudge through and his skin feeling more like one big rubber glove. The mask and goggles laid deep on his face, and his clothing was drenched in half-frozen sweat.
He was so tired, everything was so heavy…
“Maybe…just…five minutes..wouldn’t hurt.”
But just as the world began to dim, a rich amber light somehow broke through the ebony fog. It started off dim, but quickly brightened and such a thing became Drill’s lighthouse within this storm.
Was he seeing things? It wasn’t uncommon for the sleep deprived to witness hallucinations. However, if so, he wasn’t one to question and followed it on instinct. It was a warm, even familiar light too, but he couldn’t afford the energy to pin down where he’d seen it prior.
All that mattered was to move, movement was life, rest was the enemy and slowing down was a death sentence.
Drill had to push on, just a little further, just a few more steps, push forward for the dawn after darkness.
The light seemed so close yet so far, would he ever reach it? Was it even there to begin with? Would it leave so soon? Perhaps there was no rush and he could stop for a bit, he felt awfully hot under all that clothing and the regulator did his comfort no favor-
“NO!” With a slap to the chin he woke himself back up. “Not now! Not here!”
He had to follow the light, the bright orange light that signalled his salvation and promised him peace. Weakness of the body couldn’t stop him now! But it tried oh so hard.
Vision blurry, eyes heavy, legs weak and numb. The eternal candle threatening to be blown out. All it would take is a stumble, a simple misstep or critical moment of weakness.
But he held firm and resisted the temptations of his body, propelled now by sheer willpower and soon where one light had dominated the skies, the twinkling brights of hundreds more joined it.
He had found the city.
The vehicle deport had become a very quiet place since the storm hit. With the ceasing of operations only a skeleton crew had remained to prevent any mischief. Many of those guards were the same ones who’d witnessed the hijacking just a couple days ago.
Now they quietly sat and waited, staring into the empty blacks outside with baited breath.
They were expecting someone.
Of course the prospect of facing nature's wrath was intimidating, enough so they’d collectively strayed from helping. By the time they were having second thoughts it was already too late to join, and so trepidation had set in.
Some were hoping for a safe return, others for no return at all, lest they be confronted with the crime of cowardice.
But as one guard quietly watched from a platform absentmindedly, they saw something stir from within that void.
The light of a glow lamp.
A cold chill ran up his spine and ended through the tip of his horn, limbs locked in place and mouth left agap. Little by little, the shape of a couple ponies emerged and the guard briefly shook himself to blow into his whistle, before rushing over to help them inside.
More quickly arrived and Drill quietly turned to the unicorn, taking Comet’s sleeping form off his back. After so many hours under the hood, boiling and freezing at once, he finally felt the courage to peel that blasted mask off his face. Only twice had it been taken off and only for a few minutes to drink and eat.
“Corporal? Is that you?” One asked.
Drill raised a hoof and slowly pulled the rebreather and goggles off, shortly followed by the thick ski mask. A series of wide eyed wonder and horror followed as they took in the state of the stallion.
Bags the size of luggage cases hung under his eyes, greyed and near lifeless yet staring a thousand yards. Ice and snow caked his suit until the fabric and rubber became indistinguishable from them, and even after pulling his hood down his mane had become flaky and stiff.
“W-Where’s the Corporal?”
Drill reached into his bags and dug around before pulling out a pair of metal tags, speaking lowly.
“At the Hauler.”
On any other day he would’ve pressed further to nail the point across, but the faces of their collective realisation were enough to satisfy him. Guilt, anger, regret and more were subtly shared throughout the small crowd with some ponies turning away bowing their heads in shame, likely regretting their own cowardice now.
Another guard approached, more astonished than the last.
“How the buck did you manage to find the city? It’s pitch black out there!”
“We followed the giant balloon with the blinking light. Scouting Beacon I think it was called?”
More looks of confusion followed and for a moment it puzzled Drill too, until another guard replied. “My friend, we lowered that when the storm hit. It would’ve snapped the tether otherwise!”
A long moment of silence followed and Drill slowly blinked. He had to internally repeat the sentence a couple dozen times before it really registered.
“If what I saw wasn’t the beacon, what else could it have been? No common light can shine that brightly.”
Had he the energy to contemplate it further he would’ve. But It didn’t matter now. Comet was safe, he was safe. And he really needed some rest right about now.
The floor seemed good enough…
THUD!
Author's Note
To help refugees, scouts and other wanderers locate cities and settlements, most use a tethered balloon with a set of flashing lights called Beacons.
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Drill’s mind silently woke up and he was immediately hit with a headache. Keeping his eyes closed he groaned and tried to find a more comfortable position.
Funny, he didn’t remember crawling into bed the night prior…
“That’s because you didn’t!”
Drill’s eyes suddenly shot open and he caught his first glimpse of his surroundings.
Sterile metal panels made up the walls and ceiling. A white-painted cabinet stood beside his bed decorated with cards and beside it stood a tall metal pole hoisted by a glass bottle, connecting a line down into his forhoof.
A sigh of relief sounded off and he slunk back into the infirmary bed.
Of all the places to wake up after hiking through the snow for two days straight, he was beyond grateful it was the hospital. Granted his stomach was on the verge of eating itself, but he’d take hunger pains over freezing numbness any time.
“Mr. Drill Bit?” Spoke a familiar voice.
Even through his morning grogginess, he could recognise that voice, and it filled him with a cheery joy as he tried to sit up. Comet Trail sat in the next bed over with a cosmology book in hoof. The hind leg he’d crudely bandaged was raised on a pillow and even his wing cast had been replaced.
“Morning Comet,” He groaned. “Are you okay?”
The colt mirrored Drill’s smile and closed the book. “Oh, I’m fine! The doctors gave me something so it doesn’t hurt anymore. If anything they were more scared about you!”
“Wait…they were?” Drill, happy he didn’t need to worry about Comet, now finally processed that he likely hadn’t been in great shape either.
“Yeah, they said your heart was pumping really slowly, and they talked about whether or not they’d have to cut your legs off.”
“My what?!” Drill sprang up and threw the sheets over but to his relief found his hinds were still there.
Mini-heart attack aside it certainly woke him up.
Comet giggled and Drill settled down, panning his eyes around the room. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About three days, the storm ended yesterday and a lot of ponies came by to visit.”
Once more Drill turned to the colt in shock. “Three days?! No wonder I feel so hungry.” Taking a second look he went back to the bedside table full of cards. All were hoofmade to varying degrees of quality, but what surprised him further was the sheer amount of them.
Drill only knew a hoofful of ponies and were friends with even less. Here there were so many cards they were overflowing the extra draws, never mind the table counter.
“Comet?” He spoke without moving. “When you said a lot of ponies came to visit, how many do you mean by that?”
“As many as the stars in the sky!” Drill now turned to face him bewildered. Comet in turn responded more sheepishly. “I…wasn’t counting, I spoke to a bunch of them and told them what happened. Some even remembered you from when I fell from the Generator, I think they like you!”
Drill fell back into his bed as realisation hit him like a truck, oh he could see the headlines now. “Hero father braves storm, rescues crippled pegasus!” It was enough to make him groan from embarrassment. His emotions conflicted with themselves on how he felt, an odd instance where he felt both happy and proud, but also guilty and undeserving.
“Congratulations Drill Bit, you’re a local hero. And it only cost another pony his life.” He internally mumbled, mind catching up with the events and more specifically everything that had transpired in the snow.
Right now, he certainly didn’t feel like a hero. He’d killed some-creature, like he’d actually killed another creature. Granted he had all the justification in the world but he still had blood on his hooves. That’s not something heroes do.
“Then again, it’s because of Iron Might’s military obsession we’re not dogfood right now…”
Again his mind flashes back to the moment Smoke Stack was killed.
“Allegedly.”
“Are you okay Mr. Drill?” Comet squeaked.
“I…” He paused, musing on his words. “I don't know how to feel about this.”
“Really? Isn’t having so many ponies concerned about you being okay a good thing?”
“It’s…It’s complicated Comet, I think you’ll understand when you're older.”
Comet slunk back into his bedding with an annoyed whicker. “I don’t get why ponies keep saying that, young stars and old stars still output the same amount of heat.”
“That’s certainly one way to put it,” He chuckled. “But I digress, when you get older you’ll learn to appreciate the quiet more.”
A soft smile graced Comet’s cheeks and he picked up his book again. It might not have the exact answer he was looking for, but it was a decent one enough.
Another few hours would pass before a doctor would arrive and evaluate the both of them. Judging that they’d recovered well enough the duo were discharged with a small bag of medication to go.
And the streets were alive today.
Most buildings still had leftover snow buildup from the storm and excess was still being cleared from the roads. It was everywhere, behind every pipe, on every building frame and rooftop. But there were just as many ponies working to clear it bit by bit. Being cooped up for several days would’ve made anypony yearn for the outside again, temperature be damned.
Drill never thought the icy air could ever feel so crisp, nor how good it felt to finally stretch his limbs again. Even Comet seemed to share the sentiment as Instead of riding on his back he was prancing about! Albeit slowly with a limp, but it was good to see the colt trying.
Yet he could still sense something was off. Comet was being active, but he’d always steal glances towards his wing, which still drew the curious eye of passer’s by.
“Let’s not pick at an old wound just yet, I’ll ask when appropriate.”
The two continued to weave around traffic and made sure to dodge the afternoon automaton, which still an old sight for Drill, still stood as a spectacle for Comet.
It was a little thing, but it was the little things that counted. Like how ponies smiled and waved to one another, happy to have survived another storm unscathed. Or how he saw a scattered few kids playing in the snow-
“Hang on, isn’t it still work hours?” He squinted. “Why are they out right now?”
Comet took notice as well but he didn’t rush off to join in, rather he skittishly ran over and rejoined Drill’s side. With the colt’s history at the orphanage Drill couldn’t exactly blame him, but being too shy to at least try wasn’t right either.
“Is everything alright Comet?”
He hesitated for a moment, staring at the group from behind Drill’s legs. “I’m scared, what if they make fun of my wing?”
“It’s okay to be scared Comet, but that shouldn't ever stop you.” He leaned down and smiled. “If anything happens I’ll be nearby.”
Slowly, Drill’s smile spread to Comet and the colt crept away, lurching toward the three other foals building a snowpony. After a quick exchange, Comet joined in and Drill took a spot on the side to watch.
There he stayed for a good hour or so smiling as Comet socialised. They’d used small cogs and bolts for its cutie mark, cork in place of buttons, gave it a hood made from a torn burlap bag and even a thin glass bottle for its nose.
It all gave Drill that familiar fatherly joy that’d become so addicting to him. Of course he was still puzzled about how they slipped away from work, but he wasn’t about to drag them to their homes because of it.
“Maybe the storm forced their workplaces to close for a while? They could also just be unemployed, city normally takes a moment to assign jobs. But that’s only if they’re orphans. If they have parents they would’ve either joined them or gone somewhere else…”
He could contemplate all he wanted and try rationalising things, like whatever the light that’d guided him home was, or whatever supernatural force of nature could’ve brought on the frost in the first place. But Drill knew he was but one fish in a big pond, never to know all the answers that be.
Such ignorance was okay though, so long as it didn’t endanger him and Comet again.
“Come to think of it, the owl did try warning me before those Daimdians struck. Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought?” He chuckled to himself. “Steel Beam did say they were heralds of change, not for good or bad specifically. I’m just bad at reading signs without text.”
The kids spent the next several minutes engaged in a snowball fight with Comet trying his best despite his disability. Before long the young pegasus returned to Drill. Pleasantly tired and limping more heavily, he was hoisted up and rested on his back.
“See Comet? Not everypony is a bully.”
“Yeah! They were really nice too! I think you might like Rocky, his dad builds houses!”
“That’s nice to hear,” Drill laughed. “Maybe one day I’ll meet him.”
The two set off again and the more they walked the more Drill saw it, dozens more kids were out and about today. Too many for the earlier group to be an isolated anomaly. While it warmed his heart to see so many young faces roaming free, it still caused him some concern.
“What in Equestria did we miss? The closure of a daycare?”
As if to answer him, his train of thought was derailed by a distant, feminine voice.
“Extra extra! Reforms made to child labour laws! Young apprenticeship system in the works!”
That caught his attention and he turned a corner, seeing an orange pegasus with an oddly-colored mane, too bright to be pink but too dark for purple. She wore a paperpony cap and uniform but over her arm was an Engineer’s armband, which prompted a second look.
A black cog with an orange background atop a pair of reverse chevrons. Drill was no gearhead, but he had enough passing knowledge to note it was a low rank.
Even without all that he still strode forward to take a paper.
CAPTAIN ANNOUNCES LABOUR REFORMS
After careful consideration and differing opinions among his cabinet, Captain Iron Might announces plans to reform the adolescent labour laws in the hopes of increasing learning opportunities whilst maintaining productivity in sectors lacking necessary ponypower.
“I believe that by implementing a system where one learns from an adult, the youth of New Canterlot can stay safe within the workplace and learn at the same time.”
Until these reforms are properly implemented, all minors under sixteen won’t be required to attend work as normal. This is expected to last for up to a week but until then, the new generation may relax.
Drill had to reread the article at least three times before he’d convinced himself it was real. Such was his awe that It almost felt surreal, too good to be true, but here it was bright as day.
Did he have anything to do with this? Did he get a little too popular after returning? He flipped the pages and saw nothing coming even close to mentioning him. He wouldn’t put it past the captain to have the papers say what he wants them to say. Then again it could’ve all been a different issue.
Perhaps he was overthinking things, this could’ve all been the result of Cazrel twisting his arm after witnessing a good pony go to jail. Either way it was fun to think his petition had an effect in one way or another.
While he was mesmerised by the newspaper, Comet was captivated by something else.
In particular, the paperpony’s wings, they were tiny in comparison to the rest of her body and it wasn’t long before she caught him staring. Immediately seeing the cast when Comet’s other wing should’ve been, she greeted the colt with a smile.
“Hey kid, everything alright?” She asked.
Comet darted his eyes for a moment. “Why are your wings so small?”
By now Drill took notice and scowled. “That’s a rude thing to ask Comet.”
However the mare briefly chuckled, “Ah it’s nothing,” she waved a hoof. “I have a condition, they stopped growing when I was a foal and I could never manage to fly more than a hoof above the ground.”
“So…you’re like me?” Comet stretched his remaining wing to demonstrate.
“Yeah, in a way.” She then turned to Drill Bit. “When did it happen? I’m guessing that caste is still fresh.”
“It’s been almost two weeks, he’s…having difficulties.”
“Should I ask?” She grinned.
“I made myself a bad prosthetic wing and nearly crashed into the ground like a meteorite when I fell from the Generator,” Comet spoke with a mixture of shame and slight excitement.
The pegasus’s reply died in her mouth and her jaw was left agap. She half-pointed a hoof towards Comet then paned over to Drill before going back. “Y-You’re them? Oh damn.”
“Are we famous?” Drill jested.
“Oh, a little!” She rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Wish I had the paper with me, but you’ve made yourselves some reputation! Wish I could power through a storm like you did.”
“Thank you, miss uh…”
“Scootaloo, junior engineer, part-time mailpony, and former protege of Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo reared.
If it weren’t for the fact Drill had already met one pony who was close to an Element of Harmony, he might’ve had a stronger reaction beyond mild surprise.
Comet however made up for that, a bright smile crept across his face and stars gleamed within his eyes. “Wooow! You were trained by a Wonderbolt?!”
“Sure was, and by the best of them around!”
“Did she teach you anything about flying with one wing?!”
Despite her smile, Scootaloo couldn’t stop herself from sighing. She closed the distance and after a quick nod of approval from Drill, put a hoof on his shoulder. “Look kid, Comet, the very best I could ever manage was to hover and even then it was difficult. I had to give up on a dream of mine because of this. Sometimes, you gotta accept things in life and make the best of it.”
Comet’s smile dropped, but every one of her words dripped with sincerity and he listened.
“And trust me it will be difficult, but your worth shouldn’t be determined by what you can and can’t do, it’s your talents that matter. Take a look at this!”
Scootaloo then went back to her newspaper stand and pulled out a bulky, metallic scooter with an arrangement of pipes and mechanical components. Despite its unwieldy appearance, she was still able to unfold its handles just fine and present it.
“Had one as a kid but needed an upgrade, so I built this myself! I grew up working on scooters to get around. I did it so much that I developed a knack for it and now I help design new methods of transportation. Scooters and Steam Sleds have more in common than you think.”
A new spark returned to Comet’s eye and he looked up at her with wonder. “Do you think I could one day build a working wing?”
“If you work hard enough, maybe!” She replied. “But you can’t let it take over your life, I thankfully had my friends to help me out. I’m confident that with enough time, you’ll find some way to adapt.”
Drill had to suppress a delighted chuckle as Comet lit up with emotion. Hope, excitement, and determination, all were present in the young colt and it seemed for the first time he felt some level of genuine contentment.
“Thank you miss Scootaloo, couldn’t have said it better myself,” Drill added.
Scootaloo gave the two a salute as Drill waved goodbye, Comet mirroring the act.
The rest of the trip home was blissfully uneventful, though Drill did check over his shoulder a couple of times when entering the apartment building. It was just in time as the sun was already setting and the sky was painted a cold twilight.
It was also pleasingly quiet for once. Aside from the gentle hums of boilers and pipes, there was no other offending noise to distract or distress the two. No arguing couples or distant crying, no loud banging from personal maintenance or overly active machinery.
Given recent events, it was almost too quiet for Drill.
“There’d better not be a crowd outside my door, my apartment can barely fit a conversation.”
An entertaining thought, and thankfully it remained such as they reached their rooms. Comet retreated into his bedroom whilst Drill remained in the reception.
With everything that’d happened, it was good to be home again, but something felt wrong. Something always felt wrong. He’d been through so much so fast, what more was in store for him? And how much had he changed because of it?
How long would it be before the owl paid him another visit?
By now he was exhausted by all he’d been through. Ever since that fateful day at the Ore Plant, things had occurred at lighting speed. First the petition, then the jail, meeting the captain, the Hothouse, the foalnappers…
When was it going to end?
Would it end?
And that last one, it wasn’t lost on him what he’d done and likely it’d never leave him. “I had every right to deal with that mutt as I did but, isn’t friendship all about love and tolerance?”
In the end, he’d got what he wanted from the petition. He’d rescued Comet and fought to bring them home. But there was still a hole in his gut, a black mark on his mind that only smudged when he tried to rub it off. It was… shame.
“Maybe there was another way, maybe if I’d packed more cooling crystals…Smoke would still be alive.”
He felt shame, shame from his failure to prevent his death, shame from his failure to heed the owl’s warning, and shame that he’d stoop so low as to resort to creature slaughter.
But what was done is done and he couldn’t change the past, only live with it.
Drill panned around the room and spotted something hanging from his coat rack, an unused inky black scarf he’d bought a long time ago but never needed. He picked it up and tried it on, practising a simple knot or two.
“I’m not a violent pony, and I’m no murderer.” He then turned to a mirror, viewing himself with the deathly dark scarf. “But if violence is the only way to protect those I love, I’ll damn well do it again.”
Satisfied, he hung the scarf back up and turned to Comet’s door. The night may be young but after everything they’d been through, an early bedtime sounded like a good idea.
He gently knocked and entered to find Comet already curled up under his blankets with that same Cosmology book.
“Hey there Comet, enjoying that?”
“Yeah! I didn’t know there were so many constellations, and that they all had names and different meanings!”
That garnered a soft laugh from Drill. “Well if you don’t mind, there’s a different kind of book I wanted to read to you. A real classic I think you’d enjoy.”
Drill reached for and began picking through Comet’s miniature bookcase. While there were many books to keep him reading for weeks, there was one that was special. One that was more relevant than ever to them.
The Book of Hearth’s Warming.
He pulled it out and blew on the cover, which depicted members from the three pony tribes all surrounded by a ring of fire. Outside were three icy spirits vaguely shaped to equine images, Windigos, which circled around the ring as if to try getting through.
“Once upon a time, ponies were split into three different tribes…”
Drill went on chapter by chapter and page by page as he retold the story of Equestria’s founding. In the background, amber light gently hummed through the window from where the Generator stood—highlighting a single, silent observer. Content not to intervene any longer.
As the night went on and Drill read, Comet’s eyes became weary, yet not once did he ask him to stop. Only after a gentle yawn, Drill realised how much time had passed.
With a smile he bookmarked the page. “I think that’ll be enough for now.”
“But Drill!” Comet protested. “I’m not tired yet!”
“Well unfortunately I am, don’t worry Comet there’s always tomorrow.” He assured. Drill put the book away and walked through the door, taking one last look at the colt before closing.
“Good night Comet.”
“Good night Mr. Drill Bit!”
And so concludes the tale of two, within one city full of trial and tribulations.
The end.
Author's Note
Thanks to all who’ve read until the end! I’ll admit, this was a bit more difficult then I thought it’d be.
After writing The Boy and The Bug, I wanted to try a story format that focused more on shorter chapters that got to the point. With Frostpunk 2 coming out I also wanted to take advantage of the four year D&D campaign I’d been running, so hopefully you can expect more stories set within the frozen post-apocalypse to appear.
I’ve seen stories that try to crossover the setting, some better then others, but most of them are incomplete or lack polish. Not to say I don’t have flaws either I very much recognise that, but it's always been a dream of mine to write these stories.
I hope you enjoy them as much as I do writing them.
If there’s a stand-out moment or something you think I should improve upon, let me know in the comments!
Frostpony: Good Night Mr. Drill Bit
Bonus Chapter - The Eternal Crusade
Classical music played from a nearby gramophone, contrasted by the low groans of piping and mumbling tavern goers. At this hour, streetlamps were spilling more light through the pub’s windows then the setting sun ever could. While it was relatively quiet within the building, signs from the prior night’s performance were still scattered all around, bits of litter and grime the janitor had yet to attend to.
All things considered, it was a slow night.
Scootaloo sat with her head slumped over an arm at the bar counter, surrounded by empty glasses with heavy bags under her eyes. Berryshine wasn’t far off cleaning a few cups alongside her new hire, Soda Stream.
Pulling a cleaning cloth off her artificial hoof, she’d turn to the tired engineer. “Anything else sugarplum? Or just more sparkling water?”
“Thanks Berry, but I need something that’ll wake me up, not give me a headache.” She softly replied.
Berry crackled a smile and reached below the counter. She withdrew a bottle with a hoofdrawn symbol Scootaloo didn’t recognise, made with a finely used calligraphy brush in yellow ink rather than the usual stamped press or labels the other bottles had. Though Ponish text spelled out the mild alcohol content below.
“Beer isn’t gonna wake me up Berry, I can’t go to work with a hangover.”
“No,” She replied, pouring her a glass. “But the heat will.”
That raised Scootaloo’s eye and she sat up. The liquid was an amber yellow and she couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the eye, but she could swear the bubbling rivers looked more akin to flowing lava or plumes of flame.
She took the glass and gave a curious sniff, her nose immediately turning at the sweet smell that burned her nostrils. Akin to the vapour of freshly cut onions, they even singed her eyes slightly.
Berry again chuckled. “Best if you drink that one with your eyes closed, these drinks can pack a punch.”
Figuring she had little to lose and traking a deep breath, Scootaloo did as recommended and took a gulp.
The glass slammed back onto the counter so hard it was a miracle neither were damaged. Her mouth burned with sweet, bitter liquor and a soft plume of smoke mixed with her breath as she coughed.
“Agh, what is this stuff?”
“This sugarplum,” Berry gestured to the bottle, “Is what happens when Kirins brew moonshine, it’s pretty mild…” She grinned. “For them.”
Scootaloo collected herself, sure enough her weary veil had been lifted but it was far from a pleasant wake up call. “Thanks, I think I’ll stick to soda though.” She let off a few more coughs as her throat continued to burn some what.
On cue, Soda Stream poked her head out from over the counter at the mention, a drink shaker clutched in her hooves. “Hm?”
Berry giggled and waved her away before turning back to Scootaloo, already taking some of her discarded cups to be cleaned. “Had a hard day I take it?”
“Yep, fourteen hours will do that to ya.”
The bartender’s cheery smile waned and she adjusted the strings on her prosthetic’s leather casing. “I’m…sorry to hear, but if that’s the case, shouldn’t you be resting at home?”
“Nah! Mail duty tomorrow, physical exhaustion got nothing to me. But spending all day fiddling with numbers?” She laughed. “Way less awesome.”
Despite her prior struggle with the spiced drink, Scootaloo did find herself eyeing the glass again, which Berry noticed not long after. But just as she reached for the glass Scoots swiped it away and Berry looked at her confused.
“Thought you said you’d stick to soda.” She questioned.
But the young engineer forced a smile and held the cup. “Nah, I can handle it!” And with a sudden change of heart the mare kicked back the glass, swallowing its contents in one swoop.
Both Berry and Soda stared wide eyed and judging by Scoot’s own expression, she wasn’t handling it well either.
A moment later she threw the cup back on the counter and a plume of blue flame spat from her mouth, steam whistled out her nostrils and her tiny wings vigorously flapped. The resulting dragon’s breath prompted both barkeeps to duck lest their manes be singed.
“See?” She squeaked, trying to hold back tears of pain. “No problem!”
Gradually, they rose from cover and Berry took the empty glass without breaking eye contact with the daring mare.
“You know, I’ve never seen what happens when somepony chugs the whole glass.” Soda commented. “Now I do. Might be a fun trick for celebrations.”
Berry then stared at the bottle with the Kirin symbol on it with newfound nervousness, likely contemplating if the contents were actually hazardous, especially considering all the very flammable alcohol in the building.
Scootaloo meanwhile was still waving a hoof over her mouth trying to cool down her mouth. Whether or not the burning sensation was simple spice or a magically induced burn, she’d likely find out later if her tongue was sore.
A fresh glass of plain water was slid over to her courtesy of Soda Stream, who gave a sheepish smile and backed away. She eagerly drank and breathed a sigh of relief as the heat died down. It was still present, but blunted and more bearable.
In any case, it was shaping up to a nice, quiet evening with some drinks and maybe some bar games.
Or at least it was, until a pair of familiar faces then emerged from a staff door.
She recognised both of them immediately, her two childhood friends Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. While the three were bonded by their cutie marks, nigh inseparable in fact, the intervening years had seen them grown into very different ponies.
Scootaloo was still the shortest of them all, a fact that made her a little envious of Applebloom’s size. The farmer was the largest and visibly strongest of them all which was to be expected. But while her padded overalls portrayed her as down to earth, Sweetie Belle was all flash.
Much like her older sister, she was more elegant in how she conducted herself. Her posture, the way she walked, all the way down to the subtle expressions in her face. All of it dialled up to ten by her makeup and clothing.
Purple eyeshadow, a large purple gown complementing her colours, bright lipstick and eyelash curling, a fluffy fur collar, there was even a fancy hairpin in the same style of their cutie marks.
It looked so ridiculous Scootaloo had to fight back a chuckle.
The two chatted as they approached the bar, weaving around several tables. Unlike Applebloom, it seemed Sweetie Belle was making an effort to avoid stepping on the dirt patches and grimey wooden boards.
Yet another trait she picked up from her sister.
“And then the poor colt somehow snapped the string, thankfully I’d learned Mending so we still had our violinist. Still, the show was surprisingly close to being cancelled.”
“Ha! Sounds like the ya’ll were practising a lil’ too hard for ya own good.”
“Some more than others, the band are all great ponies but they can be a little…over zealous.”
Rolling an eye, Scoots whistled, drawing the two’s attention. Both smiled but it was Sweetie who by far was the most joyful.
“Scootaloo!” She cried, before jumping forward and taking her into a warm hug.
“Hey girls, miss me?”
Applebloom grinned as she took a seat. “Like you wouldn’t believe, what have the eggheads got cookin in that workshop you can’t spare an afternoon with ya friends?”
“Yeah Scoots,” Sweetie added, pulling away. “I didn’t see you at the show!”
“Agh sorry! I’d tell you if I could but the Captain’s got our lips shut.” Scoots tried to explain.
“Then why don’t ya quit? Workin two jobs is clearly takin a toll on ya.”
“Applebloom, if I worked there full time I’d never get to see the light of day. I can’t have that! It’d tear me apart!”
“Ugh no!” She shook her head. “Ah meant your engineerin’ job! Celestia knows you’d shrivel without the sun.”
Scootaloo sighed and her expression dropped. A sign not lost on Sweetie who turned back to Bloom. “I don’t think it's as easy as that dear.”
The farmer stood for a moment looking between the two, before taking a deep breath and moving to sit beside Scootaloo. Effectively sandwiching her.
“Darn it, I’m sorry Scoots I-...” She trailed off. “Things got a lil’ heated at work today.”
Scootaloo turned to her and forced a smile. “It's alright Bloom, I just like having a room big enough I can stretch my legs, and tinker with my scooter, okay?”
“Right, forgot about all that, living space stuff.” Applebloom rubbed one leg against the other, before then patting her friend’s shoulder. “Got a lil’ too used to it ah guess.”
“I don’t blame you,” Sweetie added. “I still forget how small my song writer’s bedroom is.”
“You got somepony ta write your songs?”
“Not quite, it's a joint effort. She’s a great idea factory but she’s sure chatty, so I more try to clean things up.”
“Heh, got ya own personal tailor too?” Applebloom teased, eying the elaborate dress she was wearing.
“Yeah I gotta say, you’ve become a real socialite.”
“Blame Rarity.” Sweetie smiled. A quick nod towards Berry and the mare poured a fresh glass of sparkling water, which she’d take a slow sip from. “If it wasn’t for her I’d probably be stuck in some mine somewhere.”
“Speakin o’ which, heard from her?”
Sweetie would pause just shy of another sip and dart her eyes away. A quiet depression took hold as she sighed. “Nothing…” She’d finally answer.
Both mares looked stunned at the answer.
“Seriously? Of everypony in town I thought you’d be the one to hear something!” Scootaloo cried.
“I thought so too! You’d think the Captain would invest interest into finding out what happened to Ponyville, but apparently not!” Sweetie leaned back and took a frustrated gulp from her glass. Keeping her mouth from getting dry between words.
“Ponyville has its own Generator. I know that much, and there’s no way Princess Twilight would just let everypony freeze, especially my sister.” She added, turning back to her glass. “Still, not knowing is just as bad.”
“Yeah, ah wanna believe my family’s still out there…somewhere.” Applebloom shrugged. “But ah think the Equestrian mail service was probably one o’ the first ta go when things got ugly. Ah sent so many letters ah lost track after five, but not one reply, that ain’t like ma sister or the rest of ma family.”
“Rainbow Dash was in Cloudsdale when the Great Storm hit…”
Both mares suddenly turned to stare at Scootaloo with a horrified eye. Their mouths agape and ice running through their veins. Scoots meanwhile just stared at the empty bar counter with weighty bags under her eyes.
Sweetie tried placing a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Scoots…I-”
“No no! She’s fine!” She turned to her. “She’s Rainbow Danger Dash! Best flyer in Equestria, if anycreature could make their way through all of that it’d be her!” She nervously declared, yet they could tell it was false bravado.
“Right?”
Both solemnly looked at her, remembering the raw force of nature that’d nearly swept them up that night. An overwhelming power like no other. One that could tear airships out the sky and snap wings like twigs. Even the royal sisters couldn’t stop the one that threatened the Crystal Empire all those years ago when the Crystal Heart had been damaged, and that one was only present in the Frozen North.
It was a quiet kind of dread that collectively gripped all three of them, a reality they hadn’t considered until Scootaloo spoke.
Cloudsdale was gone.
Just.
Gone.
Along with everypony that had resided there when the Storm hit.
The three mares quietly turned their heads towards the bar and at once sighed. Their shoulders slumping in unified depression as Berry watched on.
Whether out of sympathy or motherly concern, she also sighed and put away the glass she was cleaning.
“Hey girls.” She spoke, moving towards the front of them on her side of the counter. “Listen, I know it can be hard but…” She paused, stewing on her words. “Try to be happy. Remember that saying? Live not in sadness they’re no more, but live in happiness they were?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Bloom answered, though with very little pep, simply staring at her mug.
“Well, as much as I want to always be there for my little Ruby, I know at some point she’ll have to go off on her own. By the vine my body is already starting to fail on me.”
As if to emphasise her point, Berry raised her mechanical leg for the trio to see. Loosening the leather covers and exposing the vast array of cogs, gears and pistons underneath. She then unfolded a set of brass windup keys alike one would see from a toy, and began to turn them with her mouth.
A series of mechanical clicks and small, sudden movements were involuntarily made by the prosthetic, until Berry stopped and closed the covers back up. Her leg suddenly moved much more responsively and she looked back to them plainly.
“A little advice girls, when you get older, don’t turn to the bottle for help. Learned that lesson a little too late.”
“W-What happened Miss Punch?” Sweetie asked, half guilty for even speaking.
“What happened was I got left at the altar with Ruby on the way. The buck blew his load, hit the road, and took his half of our savings with him.”
All three mares froze in place, staring at her unblinking with pinprick pupils as Berry spoke with a somber tone. The air so quite one could hear the rumbling pipes above.
Berry however wasn’t dissuaded. The shock gradually passed and she softened her tone.
“Ruby grew up with a few complications because of me, and I still worry for her health every day. But seeing her now, all grown up working at the Hothouses all by herself. It made me realise just how quickly I was able to turn myself around and just…be a good mom.”
Pausing, she poured herself a glass of water to wet her mouth, similar to Sweetie. Leaving the air open for the girls to reply but they seemed more intent on listening to her. Their attention fixated on her words.
It was cute in a way. Even after all these years and a layer of maturity, they were still the three mischief makers of Ponyville.
And here they were listening to an adult.
“Letting them go and seeing how they do. It's the ultimate test of your parental skills, either they’ll fall flat and you’ll have to pick them up again, or they’ll soar. Hopefully as high as you did if not higher. Look at you three!” She began pointing to each of them, one by one.
“Sweetie, you’ve become a household name around town, making wonderful music that’ll probably long outlive you.”
A sheepish smile crept across Sweetie’s face and the mare turned her head away in embarrassment.
“Scootaloo, you might still be a learner but you're shooting high, and you have a long life ahead. Give it enough time and you’ll do great things.”
Waves of hope and wonder washed over the young engineer, with a quiet smile and beady eyes.
“And Applebloom, here you are providing food at a time of crisis, without any help from your family. I’m sure if they could see you now they’d be proud.”
Bloom nervously rubbed her leg with the other and giggled slightly. Basking in pride from an old sisterly rivalry.
“You should all be proud, of your sisters and of yourselves too!”
“Y-Yeah!” Scootaloo raised a hoof. “Come on girls! They wouldn’t have wanted us to worry about all day, we should celebrate!”
“Sure, I could use something stronger.” Sweetie replied, fiddling with her cup.
“Well shoot, got anything fer us Berry?”
“I know just the thing!”
With a smirk she turned around and began moving bottles away, before pulling open a panel in the bar wall behind her, revealing a hidden safe.
All eyes were on her as she pulled out an expensive looking bottle. Tinted orange glass, black paper cover and golden accents with honeycomb patterns.
“Appleoosan Honeypot, I’ve always kept a case for special occasions. Might as well be liquid gold nowadays.” She explained, pulling out several glasses.
“Berry…I-” Applebloom hesitated, musing on her words. “I don’t know, shouldn’t ya save that for somepony else?”
“Sugerplum, I have safes everywhere. There’s one under the floorboards you're sitting on.”
“Wait there is?!” Applebloom twisted her neck to look down, as if said safe would magically materialise under her.
“Nope! Just playing!” Berry smirked, playfully sticking her tongue out in jest.
Sweetie and Scootaloo began laughing whilst Applebloom rolled her eyes and returned to her. Trying (and failing) to conceal her own playful grin. “Never too old ta have fun, huh?”
“Never once Sugarplum.” Berry picked the bottle up and poured their drinks. True to her word a waterfall of golden liquid flooded the glass cups, the smell of which was strong enough to burn Scootaloo’s nose.
Yet the crowd remained undeterred as they picked up their glasses, raising them at once and speaking as one.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders forever!”
Before all taking big gulps of their drinks, eliciting very different reactions to Berry’s amusement.
Sweetie Belle cringed and fought to keep a straight face, Scootaloo gagged and nearly coughed up the drink.
But Applebloom was doing just fine.
“Oh come on girls, don’t tell me ya’ll can’t handle a lil’ whiskey!”
As they sat there drinking, pain soon turned to pleasure and loathing to laughter. Exchanging remarks, little stories and the occasional joke.
The Frost had taken many things away from the Crusaders, and furthermore the ponies of New Canterlot. Their lands, their families, the hopes and changed their lives in ways they’d never know even within their lifetimes. It was a scar that would hang over each of them till the day they died and they knew that.
And yet, it was the little moments of hope that kept them going and made life worth living.
Because without joy, without pain and without hope, what was life?
And life….is beautiful.
The end.
