### (To be titled) ###

## Chapter 1 ##

( rewrite this at a later date )
( reuse as much as possible from old attempts - there's a lot of gold there! )

## Chapter 2 ##

( rewrite this at a later date )
( again, there's a lot of gold from old attempts to recycle here! )

## Chapter 3 ##

"A drake looking for some tribute, but all I see is this ugly mare with a ponytail."
. . .
"Actually, you know what, go right ahead." She folds her arms with a smug little smirk. "Go get those orbs yourself."
. . .
"Awe, don't get cold paws on me now, kitty cat. If it's that easy, then go. Go right ahead. Don't let me stop you!"
. . .
"That's what I thought." She snapped her fingers, pointing to the stone bowl beneath her. "Tribute. Now."
. . .
"There. That wasn't so hard, now was it?"
. . .
"Got any more?"
"Well, no--"
"No? Then piss off. And stay pissed off until you get more."
. . .
Sighing loudly and munching slowly on her newfound prize, she voiced aloud the one thought that plagued her mind every single time this exact scenario had played out.
"I hate my life."

@@ Somewhere in the sky... @@

"God damn, do I love life! Do you love life, lil' G? 'Cause I sure as shit do!"
"Heh, y-yeah," Grubber half-heartedly cheered, his fist rising up in a similarly half-hearted way, "Life sure is, uh, great. And stuff."
"'Course it is, we don't hire dirty phillistine nihilists in this corner of Horserealm! Ain't that right, Tempie?"
The mare in question, already vexed as it was by having to share the ship's bridge with her unfortunate equal, had long been avoiding having to look his way, hiding her permanent scowl and grinding teeth from him lest he come up with yet another stupid remark. Having to put up with his constant antics back at the island base was enough of a strain on her composure, but it was only until right now, when she was forced for the first time to combine forces with the beyond irritating man beside her, that she got a true look at not only how infuriating he was, but how disgustingly creative he could be in finding whole new ways to pluck away at her last nerve.
"Oh, speaking of Horserealm, are we there yet, lil' G?"
"Uh, nope. Still, uh, fifteen minutes out, boss."
They were already starting to feel like the longest fifteen minutes of her life.
"Man, those are shakin' up to be a looong fifteen minutes, y'know what I'm sayin'?"
Grubber, for his part, was gripping the ship's steering wheel as tightly as he could to keep his shaking in check, praying that things weren't about to get explosive between the two commanders.
"Hey Tempie, how about a game of pazaak?"
She swore she could hear her last nerve snap.
"No," she grumbled, turning slowly to face the green menace behind her, scowl set and horn sparking to life. "No, I really don't."
"You sure? I can do Republic Senate rules if you don't have anything to bet!"
"No, Commander, I don't want to play any of your games," she began, slowly walking up towards him, her voice becoming increasingly louder and more enraged as she contined to speak. "I don't want to answer any of your questions. I don't want to hear you talking at all. I don't want to be on the same mission as you, or the same ship as you, let alone share the bridge with you. As a matter of fact, I don't want to deal with you at all!"
"Then leave."
His jarring, calm retort to her borderline screaming was perhaps the most shocking thing she'd experienced so far on this journey.
Her only reply was simple and dumbstruck.
"What?"
"If you don't like my style, Commander," he began, his expression and tone flat and unimpressed, as if lecturing a child, "You're more than welcome to take your very grabbable ass off of my bridge."
"Wh--"
"In case it's escaped your notice, let me spell it out for you. We're on a mission here, and I am here to help you, and you're here to help me. I'm sorry that you can't communicate your issues with me in a healthy and constructive manner, but seeing as we're on the clock, and not on Mother Base where we can hash things out over a nice candle-lit dinner, I am in no position to give even a sliver of a shit about your poor tender angel baby feelings."
She couldn't help but shrink away ever so slightly as he leaned down towards her, his face the picture of unamused.
"So I suggest you put a sock in it and do your job, Commander. Because your fucking attitude is not required here."
Before she knew it, his finger was firmly prodding her right in the horn, his eyes hardening a little as he continued to hold her gaze, his posture not shifting in the slightest even as the energy from her horn sparked up along his fingertip.
"Now, I'm gonna go walk a lap around the ship and try to shake some of your salt out of my armour. And when I get back, you're going to keep the next fourteen minutes of waiting entirely professional. No lip, no angst, no literally shaking. Nothing."
And then, at the very end, his trademark goofy smile came right back to the forefront, as if the exchange of the last minute had never happened.
"'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna give you a big, squishy boop on the snoot when we get back. One for each act of stanning Shadow the Hedgehog on my ship."
He pulled back with a quick clap of his hands, standing tall and proud once again.
"Sorry, Our ship, Comrade."
And then, whirling about on his heel, he strutted on out of the bridge to take his promised walk.
. . .
"All right then, Commander," she grinned, "I'll settle this back at base, just like you said."
Ignoring Grubber's shivering, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Through the nose, and out the mouth. Through the nose, and out the mouth. It didn't take long before she had regained her calm, and now she was waiting patiently for her temporary partner to return.
And sure enough, the Commander of the hour returned to the bridge, all smiles as he was before.
"Aight, what's our ETA lookin' like now, lil' G?"
"Uh, twelve minutes out, boss."
"Sweet, sweet."
He returned to his position at the bridge beside Tempest, stretching out and cracking his joints once he was there. Outside of that and some light joking around on his part, the journey continued without much issue; it was only once they had two minutes remaining that both commanders took hold of their respective microphones, issuing their orders.
"Ladies and dickworms, 10-41. Repeat, 10-41. Ready up at the ramp."
"This is your commander. Prepare to deploy at the ramp."
Both hang up at around the same time, and Anon makes his way off of the bridge, waving back at his cohorts.
"See 'ya at the show!"
Tempest nods in return, then turns to Grubber.
"Land."
"Y-yes, ma'am," he stammers.
With that taken care of, she also departed the bridge, making her way down to the 
