Daring Do at Forty Fathoms Deep

Daring winced at the splitting headache as she finally pushed her way back to consciousness. She opened her eyes and looked around to see that various crates were stacked around her. Daring rolled onto her stomach and was hit with a wave of nausea. As her vision swam, the mare’s eyes partially closed. After a minute she took a deep breath. Staring ahead, Daring flexed her wings experimentally.

Okay, not broken. Daring flexed her neck and looked back, she whipped her tail back and forth for a bit before smiling. “All seven limbs intact.” She gave an approving nod before she realized her satchel, and the bracer, were missing. Frowning, Daring turned to face forward again. She stood up and was hit with another minor pang of nausea. This time it passed quickly and Daring was left to explore her surroundings.

Walking around several crates, Daring noted they were all stamped with food labels. Daring gave a tentative sniff and wretched as the stench of befouled meat invaded her nostrils. “Ugh! Diamond dogs and their eating habits.” The mare shook her head and turned to her left. There was a steel door that must have been the entrance. Daring walked over to it and gave the handle an experimental tug with her mouth.

“Locked,” she commented as she pulled her head back. Daring paced around the crates, examining the walls and ceiling, and making sure to breathe through her mouth. “Come on, there has to be a way out,” she muttered.

After a few minutes Daring gave an exasperated moan as she bucked a crate tucked against the wall. The box slid back and few inches and Daring turned to see a wire mesh. A light twinkled in her eyes as she braced her forehooves against the crate and pushed it another few inches. Taking another deep breath, Daring gave another heave and saw a small ventilation grate.

Daring sat back and placed a hoof on her chin. I could probably fit, but I have to get the grate out of the way. Daring lay on her back and braced a hoof against the edge of the grating. Glancing at the boxes of meat, she gave a shudder. I really don’t want to know why they decided to put me here. She brought back her hoof and bucked at the grating.

Her ears waited attentively, listening for anything approaching to investigate the sound. When none came, she kicked the grate again, and this time it gave out a little. Three kicks later and the grate had been worked loose from the vent shaft. Daring got back to her hooves and gripped the edges of the vent. Barely finding purchase, Daring managed to pull the grate out the rest of the way. Getting down on her belly, the black-maned mare crawled into the shaft. It was a tight fit, and the cold steel brushed along Daring’s back as she shuffled through the air vent.

As she progressed, the ventilation became wider and taller. She was eventually able to stand up and walk down the steel passage. She made sure to go slowly though, so as not to make a racket that anything nearby might hear. Every few feet there would be a grate or the vent would branch off. Daring continued to follow the straightest path. Eventually she heard voices echoing through the vent and slowed to a crawl. As she approached the grate the voices were coming from, Daring stopped and looked around the corner.

Two diamond dogs were in a room. One had a brown vest on and was leaning on a crate. The other had a black collar and was standing.

“So, how’re you doing?” the collared one asked.

“Ugh,” the other responded. “Fine, until you showed up. You smell like wet... well us!”

“Hey!” The collared dog threw his arms out in irritation. “The boss told me to go dive and check on the support pillars, and I did. Not my fault I got wet when I went swimming!”

“Bah, well, I suppose it could be worse, that mare we captured could be making noise.” The vested dog shifted along the crate before hoisting himself up to sit on it. “When the brig master heard one of the prisoners was a mare, he almost had a panic attack,” he chuckled, then snorted.

The other dog’s mouth fell open and he sat down. “A mare? Really? My mom told me about those things. I hear, that if you listen to them, they steal your soul!”

The vested dog kicked out with a leg that connected lightly with the other’s. “Don’t be an idiot!” he yelled, rolling his eyes. The diamond dog sighed. “So you got picked out by the boss for maintenance duty? You know what that means.”

“Yeah,” the other one muttered, “Scrounging around the bottom of the sea for some boat for the next month.”

“It’s not so bad,” the dog on the crate said, “Least you get a spear gun for the sharks, remember the first sods who went down there?”

The collared dog laughed. “You make a good point. Maybe I’ll bring back some shark for us to eat?”

“Sounds great.”

Shaking her head as the conversation descended to discussions of fried shark with onions and pineapples, Daring continued down the vent. As she progressed, the fur on her forehead grew damp with sweat from the increasing temperature. Various mechanical sounds began echoing through the vent, aggravating her headache. Daring stopped by another ventilation grate and looked through it. From what she could tell, it was a generator room, various pistons rose and fell in a monotonous pattern and several gears slowly rotated. She could hear steam hissing out occasionally.

“Good a place as any to start trying to find the rest of the crew.” Daring bucked at the grate with her hind hooves and gradually dislodged the cover. It fell to the ground below with a clang that was barely audible among the various machines whirring and grinding away. Daring dropped to the ground with a soft thump and looked around. Several generators were in a line, the walls were lined with gauges, and steam permeated the room, giving it an occlusive, oppressive feeling.

Daring walked by the generators until she reached a wall. She reached up with a hoof to wipe some more sweat out of her eyes. She looked up at a pressure gauge to examine herself in the faint reflection of the the glass. Smiling, she stepped to the right just as a wrench swung past her left side. The mare grinned smugly at the diamond dog that had woefully missed her.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt a lady when she’s examining herself in the mirror?”

The diamond dog hefted the wrench and growled, scowling at her. Hoisting his tool overhead, the dog stomped towards Daring and tried to strike her. Daring deftly dodged the attempted blow and chuckled at the dog’s somewhat mechanical motions.

“You’re not one to talk are you?” Daring quipped. The dog swung the wrench to the left and Daring jumped out of the way, landing on the dog’s head before entering a double flip that landed her behind the dog. Rubbing the back of his head, the thuggish assailant made an overhead swing with his wrench, turning towards the mare in the process. Daring stepped back quickly as the wrench uselessly clanged to the ground. Before he could pull back the wrench, Daring swung around and bucked his wrist. The diamond dog yowled and grasped his broken wrist with his good paw.

Sniveling, the dog eyed Daring before he grabbed the wrench with his good hand. Daring avoided the next attack with ease, but the diamond dog’s following move was a feint. He quickly adjust as Daring moved, and he almost struck her head. Daring ducked below the wrench as it flew over her head and struck a valve. A jet of hot steam screeched out from the valve and scorched the diamond dog’s face. He wailed and waved the wrench about uselessly.

He planted the wrench into a spinning cog. He heaved at the tool in an attempt to dislodge it. Not thinking, he focused on the wrench before Daring used the opportunity to buck at his other wrist, a dull crunch could be heard as it snapped and broke. The dog yowled in agony as he released his grip. The last thing that registered in his thoughts was Daring bucking him in the head, sending him into a face plant with a nearby wall lined with gauges.

Daring gave a sigh of relief before she walked to a door they had reached during the tussle. She opened it, and stepped into a hallway that led in two directions. She took the path that had fewer machine noises emanating from it and followed the blue-painted, concrete floor of the lower maintenance decks of the oil rig.