Accidental Sunshine (3) (Patreon)

Grey-17 moved away from the wreckage and broken rock, making herself as visible to the approaching craft as possible. From that high up, it would be easy to fly right past her. 

She had some idea of where the ponies were coming from now—further north. How much further, she didn't know yet—maybe she could cross the desert on her own. Maybe she would run out of Ditzy's love and starve again before she reached her destination.

But if someone could carry her...

This was no emergency, as when she watched the flying ship crash—and she had the magic to change, if she wanted. But into what? Minotaurs were so big, and an animal wouldn't be allowed up onto a fancy flying thing. I've only been one pony before; I can be this one.

Ditzy Do couldn't complain about it—she had marked her burial in the correct way, given her the honor due to a bug. What happened after was up to Grey-17.

As the ship made its slow descent, she thought more about what she might say. Otic's words circled around and around, about how important it was for her to survive and bring food back to the hive.

The grubs growing in White burrow were even worse off than Grey. If her last memory was right, they would be lucky to have ten surviving bugs to become hunters, out of a hundred or more. We need new hunting grounds. This could be the place.

She felt the emotion radiating down from the ship long before she could see any creatures on its deck. Four passengers, not just the one. Only these were overwhelmed with worry, fear, guilt. Until they got close, and their flavor transformed to relief.

The ship didn't catch fire or crash spectacularly into the desert floor. Instead, it stopped above the ground, lingering there for a time while the ponies on its deck rushed around. 

Finally, a face appeared over the edge—a pony, with a brown coat and a darker mane. Stallion this time, with more angular features than the ones Grey-17 had copied. "We're coming for you, Ditzy! Wait there."

She opened both wings, staring up at the hovering airship. Didn't they know she could fly? Except—covered with dirt and oil and red hemolymph, maybe they thought she couldn't.

It was the name that really confused her at the first hearing. Ditzy—the dead pony.

She got halfway to correcting them, before closing her mouth slowly instead. Observe, Grey-17. The best way to learn the social rules of any creature is to say little and listen much. It is far harder to offend or frighten as a listener than it is as a speaker.

She sat down on her haunches, waiting as the grown stallion got into a smaller round thing—another ship, this time shaped like it could actually float, instead of the weird thing they tied to a balloon in the air. He clambered inside, then waited as more ponies atop the ship worked a crank, lowering him down towards the ground. 

He hopped out before it reached, galloping the intervening distance with incredible speed.

How could a pony his size move so fast? Grey-17 barely opened her mouth to speak before he collided with her, squeezing so tight it crushed the air from her lungs.

"Ditzy Do! Celestia, I... saw the explosion on my scope. Thought for sure... guess you got clear?"

She couldn't answer at first—not just because of his tight embrace, but what came with it. Instead of the careful drops of love her teacher shared with her, each one measured by the Queen's census, this was like shoving a funnel in her mouth and drowning her. She would probably have choked on it, if it was possible.

For the first time in Grey-17's life, she was full. The extra love filled her until it had nowhere else to go, and just washed past her. Invisibly of course, since only those with emotional magic would even know what had happened. Ponies were obviously not emotional eaters, or he wouldn't be able to feed her.

Finally, he let go, tilting his head to one side and lifting the goggles away from his face. As he did, she caught her first glimpse of the mark on his flank. The same place as Ditzy's, though the shape was different. Hourglass. "You're... Time Turner?"

His ears folded back, and the stallion wiped away at a layer of grease from around his face. Then he poked at her chest, her side, her head. "Your face... Ditzy, I think you've had a concussion."

He stepped back, clambering over the edge of the ship. He held one of her forelegs as he did so, leading her. He wasn't trying to force her, but he didn't have to. After a wave of love so powerful, Grey-17 would've followed him over a cliff and into a bonfire.

"Concussion?" She tilted her head to the side, confused. "Not really sure what that... is."

"Right. Definitely hit your head. Just sit there, on the bench. Dr. Horse agreed to fly out with me—from Ponyville General. He'll help you."

She sat in the indicated place, folding both feathery wings to her side. Otic was onto something about staying hidden, no wonder she had such an important position. All she had to do was look like one of them, and they accepted her!

But she had something important to do—she had made a promise.

Oaths mattered, and none mattered more than an oath with the dead. "I'm supposed to... tell you something," she said, as they started to rise again. They moved much slower than they had going down, with large metal things rattling and clanking with every new foot. "I can't forget."

"Tell me what?" he asked. He stood beside her, one hoof near the rope every second. "I'm listening, Ditzy."

"That it wasn't your fault," she said. "Lightning... went up too high. Didn't blame you." She was getting some of those things mixed up. But the important part about not blaming was there!

"Oh." She hadn't even reached for him, yet the stallion reacted as though he'd been struck with a wave of powerful magic. He slumped to the seat across from her, glancing between her and the wrecked ship far below.

"Even now, trying to... take the blame. I should've rescheduled the test."

She looked back, face blank. Her message was delivered—the dead pegasus hadn't asked her to talk about things or try to convince him. She'd done her part.

But that was apparently the wrong reaction, because the stallion's worry continued to grow. He put one hoof on her shoulder again and left it there for a few seconds.

"Just try to stay awake. They say that's the most important thing with brain trauma. Don't sleep."

"I don't need to sleep very much. Bugs don't—" But then they reached the deck and rattled loudly into position. The little ship rocked slightly to both sides, before another set of hooves caught it.

This pony was very different from the stallion with her—he was a soldier. She knew their look anywhere; be they bugs or other creatures. Though no bug had ever worn shiny golden armor or carried a pointy weapon like that.

The pony wasn't pointing their tool in her direction, instead wearing it securely strapped to his back. He had wings emerging from golden armor, which he used to hold himself stable while he wrapped a rope around a waiting hook, securing the tiny ship on top of the big one.

"You got this whole thing to fly!" she exclaimed, pointing out at the deck with one hoof. It was smaller than any of the swarm's burrows, about as large as the blocks they used for storage. But it was flying! 

"Buck, Time Turner. She looks bad," the other pegasus said. "Miss, are you alright?"

Time Turner stood up, then hopped off the little ship onto the big one. He landed carefully, holding out a hoof for her to take. "Cross nice and slow. Don't want to fall—you're in no state to fly right now."

All this love—but now that she was full, it did her no good. Could the pony maybe stop for a while and try again the next day? She needed to empty it all into something she could seal.

But not now—she would have to change back into a bug to empty the extra love. They would probably stop sharing love after seeing that. Survival, then stealth.

She followed Time Turner onto the ship, her steps wobbly and uncoordinated. It didn't help that it was windy up here, and the ship rocked gently back and forth as the wind cycled between strong and weak. She made it a few more steps before slipping on something, landing with a painful grunt on the wood.

She moaned, holding up both wings to cover her face. Time for them to start laughing.

No one laughed. Instead, she felt something warm under one leg, then the other. Time Turner lifted her back into a standing position, with the other stallion on the other side. "Doctor's belowdecks. Nice and slow, okay? We don't want you taking any more falls."

"Belowdecks" meant through a strange doorway, where the floor had lots of short drops instead of an even ramp, without any slime to hold herself in place if she wanted to move along the walls. But it was so narrow that not very many bugs could use it at once. The guard had to let go, letting Time Turner carry her the rest of the way down.

They passed several closed doors, until they reached an open one. Inside was a table, surrounded by shelves covered in little vials and bottles. 

Another pony waited inside, wearing a white coat instead of armor. He had a horn, but no wings!

"Time Turner, why don't you have one of those? You don't have wings." She pointed at the stranger, and the horn on his forehead.

"This is even more serious than it looks," the stranger said. "And she could look better."

"Looks like she just survived an airship accident," Time Turner said, raising his voice to yell through the room. "Because she did!" He heaved, lifting her up onto the table with the help of the guard. When he spoke again, it was far softer, gentler. "You're safe now, Ditzy. The doctor will help you."

"We'll do what we can." The stallion stepped forward, urging the two of them away. "Time Turner—perhaps you would serve her better on the helm. Celestia knows I can only help her so much from here. We need to get back to the hospital."

"Of course, right. Sorry." Time Turner shuffled forward, gripped Grey-17's hoof, holding on for another second. "You're safe now. This nightmare will be over soon." He shuffled back and forth, then darted out the door, his hooves clattering loudly up the steps. Soon enough a low rumble shook the ship, and the floor moved under her.

Grey-17 remained in her bed, as instructed. The guard didn't stay either, just bowed to her and trotted off the way he'd come.

"Time Turner called you a doctor," she said, looking up at the stallion with the horn. "You're going to help me?"

"That's the hope, yes. We need to determine what injuries you sustained in the crash. There's some blood here—much less than I would expect. Were you wounded in the escape? Flew clear of the explosion, perhaps?" 

She looked away from him, staring down at her hooves. "Yeah." Time to do what Otic taught her and listen instead of speaking.