Split Shift

The last beams of a hot summer’s sun trickled to through the swamp canopy. Celestia sipped what tasted like a cheap domestic, doing her best to not gag, and tried to enjoy the music. Luna would surely know the song, but she herself had no clue. The first guy on the rap song was vaguely familiar like the other two, and the beat was very catchy. She smiled and bobbed her head, happy to be healthy again. The music reminded Celestia so much of her sister. She’d know every line, there was no doubt.

The royal muscles were stiff, but she felt much better today. Tree Hugger was set on staying with the princess, extremely interested in everything to do with her. When Celestia could sit comfortably, she never saw anything but an energetic teen barraging her with endless questions. Where was she from? What was the castle like? Why was it called Equestria, and then onto every event that happened there since the nation’s inception.

Then it was onto hair, boys, girls, food, music, boys again, sports and movies and boys and technology and history and boys and bands and boy bands and boys.

At first, Celestia was fond of the company. The little copse’s swamp tribe was diverse as well as welcoming, holding a little “barbeque” or “bee bee kew for short” for her, whatever that was. They were grilling some swamp-caught dinner. As their guest, it would be social suicide to deny, especially since she had come back on their biggest holy day, the “4th of July”. Tree Hugger said it was Independence Day, but didn’t, or couldn’t, specify from what. Or, for that matter, who was independent from whom.

Celestia was sat at a splintered, rotting wooden table cluttered with plastic plates and plastic cups, nothing clean. She had gulped down surprisingly pure tasting water and, when she had her fill, had tried the beer. She never liked beer.

The festival featured all sorts of food, however. Swamp rat, turtle, some bird, frogs, frogs, more frogs, and even a small alligator. Celestia found the carnivorous fare to be fairly satisfactory with a little swamp ingenuity. Dried wood crackled in a steel grill that infused a smoky, hearty deliciousness into every scrap of food. There were even small amounts of homegrown rice and beans that Celestia wasn’t especially fond of.

All around the little picnic-type area, little electric lights in every tacky pastel hue hung on twisted cords. They dimly shined above a little space in the flat area behind the only building Celestia knew of.

Made entirely of concrete, the impervious structure was called “Home Base”. Tree Hugger explained it was once a mechanic’s garage with an extensive storage capacity. The warehouse portion housed building material, shelving, and even a back stock of useful tools in abundance. The entirety of Home Base had been turned into living and common quarters since it’s discovery. The power in the building was still on, and no one knew why, least of all Tree Hugger (Celestia’s newest best friend.) No matter how many scavenged and tinkered electronics were plugged in, no breakers flipped.

There was music of all sorts played on an ancient device called a boombox, everything from hiphop to twangy rock ballads to party songs. Celestia liked it for the most part, and even tried to dance (when begged and begged by Tree Hugger). This was a bad idea, and Celestia had to sit down, holding in tears from agonizing pain in her ankle and wrist. She wasn’t close to one hundred percent. She had foolishly forgotten that walking alone was agonizing.

Whatever the swamp folk did to mend her wounds, however, was nothing short of a miracle. Celestia did not know the full extent of her injuries, but they were grave, if not terminal. She owed Tree Hugger and her friends her life, that was a certainty.

Tree Hugger’s people numbered thirty-four, with skin every color of the rainbow. The tight group had minimal animosity towards anything, it seemed. No one really complained, and Celestia noticed that no one was needlessly abrasive. Playful teasing was in abundance. She thought that at some time, some would go stir crazy.

When asked about her fall, which was with the widest eyes, the music stopping just for her, Celestia disappointed her captivated crowd of all ages and races. She knew so little herself, especially about the time before her crash. There was no indication that Octavia or Toru had been seen. That was a bad sign, but they could still be en route, maybe even nearby, spying. There were enough possibilities. Celestia apologized and promised the people and herself she would return, if and when she had answers from the DCC.

No one seemed sold, however. “No one ever comes back from the DCC,” some little boy said. She was struggling to learn names. Celestia seemed to think his started with an M.

“It’s just a giant people trap,” an ancient woman said, skin black as a moonless night, her accent thick to the point where Celestia found it nearly inscrutable. The music kicked back on mid-song. Her name was Grandma something, Celestia couldn’t recall, and her loose nightgown-like garment made her weight hard to place. If her bony face was any indication, Celestia thought the old woman weighed likely less than one hundred pounds on or near the surface of Equestria.

She thusly gauged this planet had the same gravitational acceleration, more or less, but it was quite hard to tell. Celestia reasoned her fall would have given her a good indication, but the overwhelming fear biased her perception. Her thoughts still took much to piece together, and learning things like new pleasantries and names and customs was trivial by comparison.

Celestia shifted in place, noticing there wasn’t dust in every awful crevice of her suit. Had they- She pushed that thought away for the moment. “How far away is it?” Celestia asked. “I need to get there as soon as possible.” The little M was fiddling with two twigs, uninterested.

Grandma Nameless shook her head sincerely. The boy was smacked by a littler girl, and they ran off, screaming, brandishing fists. “Wish I knew, darlin’. From the bottom of my oldy achy heart, I wish I did. But likes I said, ain’t no one never come home from dere.”

The royal heart sank a little. She recouped, and remembered that she had no intention of ever coming back. She wanted to leave, as did most other travelers who came through here. “How many?” Celestia asked.

“Two,” Grandma said.

“Just, two from your group, or two ever, as in people that showed up-”

“Two, darl, just da two. A strappin’ young gennleman named, oh, Matthew something some, and his lil dove. Dey was like yous, just fall from da sky. We carried ‘em to d’Hotel Bu-ravo rahere and gave dem two da healin wada- jus like you had. But boy oh boy, I can’t say them two were in as bad shape as you, sweetie. MMmmmmnah, yous was half-past dead when lil Tree Hugguh foundja.”

“You’re welcome,” the culprit said, eyes crossed.

“Thank you,” Celestia said. She wondered briefly about the healing water, what silly superstition that had behind it. Still, she was healed, by it or other means. Celestia put that thought on the back burner. “If I have not said thank you before, please, allow me to say it one million times mo-”

“NOPE!” Grandma nearly shouted. “No need, darl! Heh, das what we do,” she said and leaned forward far in her wicker chair. “Das, de Americ’n way. Hospitality, equality, punctuality, an- aw shoot, ya in good hands, darl. Don’chu fret none.”

Celestia sat up, astonished. She wanted to thank her and Tree Hugger and everyone else a thousand times again, even if she did nothing but that while she found herself coherent again. Of course, she’d set off for the DCC the first chance she could, but until then Celestia just wanted to host some sort of celebration for them.

But, she wasn’t in Canterlot anymore. Celestia felt fleeting homesickness for the first time, recollecting that she did not have the royal catering service and party planners on constant standby.

“Now,” Celestia said, setting her lukewarm adult beverage beside herself on the splintered bench. Questions buzzed madly around in her mind, something took priority. “I have to know one more thing.”

“Shoot.”

Celestia scanned the little enclosure or clearing or picnic or “bee-bee-keyew” pit and found most everyone was huddled around a small bonfire and drinking and playing and telling stories. The fighting children were now sitting next to each other on a beverage container, a cooler she heard it called. (It cooled drinks, that was simple enough of a name.) Someone had an ancient guitar, strumming as everyone sang some ballad called “Sweet Home Alabama,” wherever that was. It was annoying. “I was not alone,” Celestia said in a quasi hush. “I’m looking-”

“Say again, darl?” Grandma spout. “Left ear’s a lil deef, ya gotsta speak up.”

“Have you seen anyone else?” Celestia asked a bit louder. “From away? In clothes like mine?”

“Now why would we have some cloth-oh!” Grandma rocked back, a big grin on her face. “Nah, nah chile, I ain’t seen nuthin. Corse, I can’t see much nowadays, not since my glasses dun up’n found the concrete.”

“You got seperated from your friends?” Tree Hugger gasped, wide-eyed. “OH! No! I bet you’re a super spy that jumped off that cliff to lose your pursuers!” Tree Hugger hopped up on the bench and knelt down, her long khaki shorts protecting her knees. “What kind of secrets do you know, huh? Who’s super secret secrets? Got any sweet gadgets?” She grabbed Celestia by the chin and hooked two fingers around her bottom teeth, all while Grandma laughed and laughed. “Where’s the microfilm, you dirty spy?!”

Celestia struggled, gagging at the taste of dirty fingers in her mouth, and managed to shove Tree Hugger off, her hands pushing off hard on the younger woman’s almost flat chest. Tree Hugger fell back into the dirt, laughing and getting right back up, ready to tackle the spy.

“Stop!” Celestia begged, her shoulders on fire, her ribs and jaw in unbearable pain. “I’m not a spy!” Celestia begged. Tree hugger hopped on the bench haphazardly, knocking Celestia’s drink over.

“I was just playin’, geez,” Tree Hugger said, rocking the bench some. “But,” she said in a sudden hush, drawing the attention of a pair of younger girls. “Are you f’real a commie spy? I won’t tell, I swear. Honest.”

Celestia found Grandma was listening closely, as were at least three others. “No,” Celestia said solidly. “Why are you all so concerned with spies? And what even is a ‘commie’?” She asked, confused and uncomfortable.

“Cos,” Tree Hugger said. “We can’t let them steal our intelligence! Dur, geez.”

“What?” Celestia asked. “Is that it? What- I don’t... Intelligence?”

“Don’ worry bout it no, chile,” Grandma said quickly.

“No,” Celestia said, hurt. “If I’m in your care, I want to know the risk of being here!” Celestia demanded. She wasn’t concerned about spies, so much, but she had absolutely no knowledge of her predicament. All she knew was that these people knew of the DCC, likely the best path to the same, and they camped on and in a solid concrete base in the middle of a swamp microclimate in the middle of a waterless planet she had no recollection of. Celestia was fuming with frustration at the lack of intelligence, and if these barbaric simple-minded miracle workers had some, she’d rather fry their brains than go ignorant. Now, the princess realized at last, she was unarmed.

Celestia felt naked. During her short time here, she had never been without her energy weapon.

Tree Hugger giggled, a grin slowly creeping across her young, dirty face. She produced a bottle labeled “Budweiser”, twisted off the top and pocketed the cap. “Come on, Grandma Sparkle,” she said. “She’s got a right, doesn’t she? I mean, she owes her life to the nan-”

“No,” Grandma Sparkle said. “She doesn’t need ta know, so she ain’t gonna! And das dat. And for Gad-sakes, chile, you know yo too yun ta drink dat, givit up. A lil girl like you ain’t got no bidness wit beea anyway. Whatchu, right bout sixteen?” Tree Hugger nodded proudly. “And help yo Grandma up, she gon’ getterr beauty sleep nah.”

Tree Hugger took an extra big gulp and shoved the bottle into Celestia’s chest, giggling at the way the glass made her breasts move, hissing out a little “nice”. She belched an “okay” and sauntered to Grandma Sparkle’s side.

“Celly,” she mumbled as a caricature of inebriation. “I’ma take dis fiiine slice-a wine to bed, den we gonna mishmash da nee-na-no, kappich?”

Celestia just held Tree Hugger’s beverage away from herself, angry at the repeated violations of personal space, and sat still as she heaved Grandma up and out of her seat.

“I’ll be back in a sec, then we’re gonna talk, k?” Tree Hugger clarified, holding hands with her bony elder.

“Oh,” Celestia said, amused just a touch. “Got it. Would you like assistance?” She asked, slowly getting up, her joints and ribs still aching terribly.

“No, no, chile,” Grandma grunted. “No, yous seen enough action f’nao. Maybe you shurest yaself, honey. And fo Gad-sakes, Tree Hugga, I said no talkin’ bout da damn needta know! I know yous in charge ”

“Shhhhh,” Tree Hugger said, nearly dragging Grandma inside. Her able little frame looked like it could carry the sack of skin and bones.

The ladies disappeared inside, and the handful of rubbernecks snapped back to what they were up to immediately, no one admitting they were listening to the entire exchange. Celestia blushed a bit. Alone and unarmed, she felt more vulnerable than ever. She eased herself back onto the bench, feeling drained. Celestia sipped the beer and immediately detested the piss-flavored drink. She would gladly trade a dozen Budweisers for a decent pinot noir, or her PIAR.

She’d trade much to get that thing back. She had neglected to find her weapon. Had it even survived the fall? Was it back up someplace in the cliffs? Had the others found it?

Were the others coming for her? Were they dead? Had they, too, been found, being held captive? Did they fall and die, like Celestia thought she had?

The princess shook her head, wishing she could just lay down and pretend this wasn’t real. Thankfully, Tree Hugger appeared at her side before Celestia’s pessimism took any real root.

“Sup?” Tree Hugger asked, plopping herself next to Celestia, too close for casual, good natured, professional conversation. “Thanks,” the young one said flatly, snatching her drink from Celestia’s hand.

She took a long draft, finishing with a long “Ahhh”. “Nothin’ like a cold one and a hot 4th of July party, huh? Or a lukewarm one, I spose. Ya excited for the fireworks, Celery?”

“Celestia,” she instantly corrected. “And I’m not very interested in pyrotechnics, Tree Hugger. I need some questions answered-”

“And I need a girl who won’t change her number after the first date,” she replied without skipping a beat. “What’s ta know, Cellosky? Are you sure you’re not some sorta foreign spy?”

Celestia raised her eyebrow. This one sure was something. “Celestia. Also, as I said, I am a princess. I don’t know if you have those where you hail from-”

“Lookey here, princess,” Tree Hugger said indignantly, drawing in a big breath through her nose. “This here is the last scrap of America home of the free and land of the brave. We happen to have a diplomatic republic; no kings or queens or prime commissars or dictators of czars or grand master wizards or fat chicks or even princesses allowed. You’re more than welcome to stay here, pretty princess, but your name and rank don’t mean much. I was elected by the people, for the people. People comma we the, that’s who’s in charge. Now I don’t remember at all what we were talking about so say the words.” Tree hugger finished her thought by sipping some more beer.

Celestia blinked, intrigued and only a little insulted. “Very well,” she said. “First thing’s first: where’s my weapon?”

“Inside,” Tree answered.

“Where?”

“I just said, next question.” Tree sipped her beer again, much to Celestia’s annoyance.

“Okay. What’s inside there? You called it ‘Home Base’, right? And what was the healing water Grandma Sparkle mentioned?”

Tree Hugger shook her head. “I never said that, but you’re right, that there’s the Hotel Bravo, pardner. And yeah, we got healing water, no biggie, just a miracle or something.”

“Well?” Celestia asked, getting impatient. “What’s inside?”

“A kitchen, a bathroom and shower and some bunk beds, a pantry-”

“No, I know you live there, but what’s so special? Why is it made of thick concrete if all you do is eat and sleep there?”

“We do other things, too! Geez!” Tree Hugger swung her feet as she looked around.

“For the love of- then what was the need to know you were talking about?!”

“D’ya need to know?” Tree asked in a sudden serious hush. “Cuz it’s kiiiiind of a big dizzy.”

“Yes!” Celestia almost shouted, her head aching already. Tree Hugger was beyond adorable, but Celestia felt like squashing her like a bug.

Tree Hugger’s normally facetious and humorous face was sordid with seriousness. “Well then. Follow me, princess,” she said as she stood, leaving her beer behind on the bench. The tree hugger walked into the darkened innards of the reinforced concrete bunker, and the woman in tight nomex followed.

Leaving the dull party outside, Tree Hugger quickly walked around tight passageways and stacks of supplies and junk and cabinets, winding through rooms of all sorts with no hesitation. Celestia looked away from lovers openly consummating, an old man in the next room cooking potatoes, a pair of boys sharing whiskey and playing a violent game of some sort, then some unoccupied compartments with no discernable use. Trash was everywhere in what Celestia hoped was an organized chaos. Electronic gun blasts and loud music polluted the air around the area where they stopped.

Tree Hugger’s winding tour led to a clusterfuck of a room, clothes and garbage and pictures and other consumer detritus strewn about lazily. This space was particularly bad. Celestia couldn’t believe anyone could live like this.

“From this point on, what you see is tippy top secret, comprende?” Tree Hugger said, bending over a poster and pile of female underwear. “Not a fuckin word to any fuckin soul.”

Celestia nodded, still scanning the “I SPY” game of a room. The walls may have been green, but it had been a long time since any fresh paint was applied. Tree Hugger shoveled some debris out and away, revealing a small red handwheel. She turned and pulled with a grunting jerk, her tree climbing arms flexing with young muscles. The hatch came up and open, revealing a black opening through the ground.

“I think I got answers for ya, princess,” Tree Hugger said with a little burp. “I’ll follow you down,” she said, picking up a plastic toy from under a new pile.

“If you insist,” Celestia said softly, noticing the stale stench of standing water. She didn’t want to get wet, not in this place, not with stale swamp water.

“Good,” Tree Hugger said without happiness, her hands clutching a familiar pistol grip.

“Hey!” Celestia nearly shouted, her sides hurting from the effort. “Give me back my weapon!”

“No way, jose,” Tree replied, lifting her newly acquired Protonic Inversal Atomization Ray. Celestia did not enjoy seeing the proton vanes of her own weapon pointed at her. But by the hands of an untrained individual? Absolutely unacceptable.“Down to the brig with ye, ya scurvy shellback-HEY!”

A breaker in Celestia’s mind tripped someplace, causing a serious lapse in perception. The princess moved like a bolt of lightning, and she found her weapon tangled in the crook her right elbow, Tree hugger sprawled across some old pizza boxes and greasy t-shirts, the side of her left hand bruised and in unbelievable pain. Chronically putting up with her soreness was callusing, and Celestia found it not too hard to ignore anymore. Celestia quickly holstered it and helped Tree Hugger up, her surprised mind trying to piece together an apology. Celestia’s joints burned harshly.

“God fucking dammit,” Tree Hugger mumbled, getting up on her own power and favoring her left leg.

“Oh my goodness,” Celestia whispered. “Tree Hugger, I am so, so sorry, I-”

“That,” Tree Hugger defensively said, holding up her arms. “That was pretty cool. I don’t even care if you’re a spy anymore, hell, you probably fuckin are, but if you can kick my ass like that- ya know what?” she asked, defensive. “You can take the intelligence. I don’t even think it’s a...” Tree Hugger trailed off, her lips opening with slack.

“A.... what?” Celestia asked, uneasy. She found Tree Hugger wasn’t looking at her, but past her, and her hands were slowly rising, palms out.

Celestia turned and saw what she was going wide-eyed over. Tree Hugger was lifting her arms in surrender to two suited soldiers, officers in the Equestrian Royal Space Command.