//------------------------------// // 2 Like clockwork // Story: Rarity’s Relaxing Vacation // by Lime Contraption //------------------------------// Rarity awoke from a nightmare to find herself tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Apparently, the massage she'd received the evening before hadn't been enough to completely ease all of her anxiety about the previous year. Groaning, she carefully untangled herself before trotting into the shower room. With hot water cascading over her, she closed her eyes and tried to force the thoughts of financial struggles and creative drought from her mind. Those were problems she could worry about after her vacation. Sure, she'd burned through all of her savings and had to take out another loan to cover unexpected repairs to the boutique. And she'd lost so much of her designing time to arranging for construction ponies to visit and then working around the disruptive repairs. And ending the year with no money and feeling like she’d achieved nothing had sapped all her enthusiasm, filling her with cold, relentless dread. But she was sure a vacation and a few spa treatments would resolve the problem. Having failed to clear her mind, Rarity dried herself and headed down to an early breakfast. She intended to spend the entire morning enjoying everything the spa resort had to offer. Rook groaned as she awoke. The first thing she felt was throbbing pain in her head, followed by sharper pain when she opened her eyes. This was followed by the protesting from her ears which seemed worst of all. "I don't remember drinking last night," she whispered, shielding her face with a foreleg as she adjusted to the morning light from the window. The sun was low in the sky and seemed to be aiming directly at her retinas through the lone window. "Oh... I do remember hitting my head." She must've hit it harder than she thought as she couldn’t remember arriving at the Sheriff’s office. Blinking rapidly, Rook glanced around to find herself in a square prison cell with three thick stone walls and a set of sturdy bars blocking the fourth side. It was a familiar sight, the typical small town holding cell. Getting to her hooves, Rook reached up to touch the side of her head and found that it was tender from where she'd been tackled to the ground. Concluding that her head was probably just bruised, not fractured or broken, she turned her attention to the noise. The whole Sheriff's office was filled with music. Loud, annoying, tuneless music. "What is that racket?" Rook hissed, covering her ears and glaring at the open door leading to the front of the Sheriff's office. "It's my morning music," the Sheriff called from the other room. "I find it helps invigorate prisoners to be woken early by inspirational song." "Can you turn it down? I'm trying to sleep," Rook hissed, her head hurting more from the noise than the recent blunt collision. "Sure," the Sheriff called, followed by the sound of a gramophone winding down to silence. "Thank you," Rook sighed, lying down again, closing her eyes and wrapping her cloak around herself. "The hoofball semi-final match between Whinnyapolis and Trottingham ended in victory to Trottingham after a last second goal," The Sheriff spoke loudly as he read from the morning paper, “And after the surprisingly close game with mistakes on both sides, experts are predicting that the Canterlot team are still favourites to win the grand final this weekend." Rook groaned again, opening her eyes as the Sheriff continued reading from the sports pages, "So, you're a hoofball fan?" "I follow the Equestria Hoofball League," The Sheriff replied from the other room. "I used to play for the school team back in Canterlot." "You're a Canterlot colt?" Rook asked, not getting up from the bunk, “So, you're rooting for them to win the League?" "Well, at this point its pretty much guaranteed," The Sheriff said with a grin that Rook could feel from the other room, "They've dominated the league this year while Trottingham has scraped through on luck." “Interesting,” Rook replied with her own grin, “Do you want to bet on it, Sheriff? I’ll wager my gold statue that Trottingham beat Canterlot in the final.” “Three problems with that proposition," The Sheriff said, walking in through the doorway and looking at her with cold, blue eyes, "Firstly, that would be a boring wager as the conclusion is too obvious. Secondly, I’m not gambling with a criminal. And thirdly, that statue isn’t yours to give away.” “That’s a matter of opinion, Sheriff,” She shrugged, “I licked it, so doesn't that make it legally mine?” "No, it doesn't. Are you from Trottingham or something?" The Sheriff asked, stepping toward her while carrying a scroll in his pale blue magical field. "Your accent is kind of similar." "I'm from around that area," Rook shrugged. "Because I've got this wanted poster for a thief with that accent," The Sheriff explained, unravelling the scroll and holding it up for her to see. "A mare wearing a cloak?" Rook read the description beneath the incredibly basic sketch. "Fur colour, unknown. Eye colour, unknown. Mane colour, unknown. Cutie mark, unknown. Possible Trottingham accent... That describes thousands of ponies. It's not an uncommon accent and many traveling ponies wear cloaks." “Maybe," The Sheriff shrugged, "I guess it'll be up to the magistrate to decide if you're responsible for these other crimes on top of what you were arrested for. “Or I'll be found innocent,” Rook smiled. “According to this wanted poster, you’ve committed crimes up and down the coast,” The Sheriff continued, “Will the magistrate hand you over to whichever town hates you the most, or does everyone on this list get to sentence you one after the other?” “You really don't get the whole 'innocent until proven guilty' thing,” Rook shook her head. “And you don't get the whole 'caught red-hoofed' thing,” the Sheriff smiled before heading back into the main room, “I’ll let you contemplate your future prison sentences in peace. Although I may be testing the fire alarm at random intervals over the next few hours.” “Great. Maybe in prison I’ll be able to sleep,” Rook groaned. Rarity enjoyed her light lunch while admiring the beauty of the courtyard. The morning had been a great success. Steam room, plunge pool and seaweed wrap had been as relaxing, invigorating and detoxifying as she'd hoped and her stresses were finally starting to ease. The pre-equestrian ruins were the only flaw in the otherwise perfect start to her vacation. The resort had been built around a courtyard where the original ruins were discovered. The uncovered and preserved history was now on display for all visitors to experience. Unfortunately, there was little more than a couple of crumbled walls, the base of a stone column and the fractured remains of a mosaic. While these ancient treasures were beautiful, there were rather less of them than Rarity had imagined from the brochure. After eating a quick lunch in the courtyard, the designer felt she'd seen everything there was to see from every angle she wished. A trip to the archaeological dig sites in the jungle was becoming a necessity. Finishing her meal and a final sketch of the old mosaic, Rarity headed out of the spa and toward the town below. Entering the funicular, she found no sign of the mechanic with the unusual voice from the previous evening. Keeping that little mystery filed away in the back of her mind, she focused on the dazzling colours of the lake as the cable car descended. The village of Green Lake was exactly as Rarity had imagined. A chaotic mixture of old and new after the recent tourist boom. Half the settlement was farming and gathering buildings where ponies harvested the bounty of the nearby lake and jungle. While the other half was eateries, clubs and hotels built to catch the overflow of visitors from the main resort. The town was charming in its own way, but the lake was what kept Rarity's attention as she trotted toward the water’s edge. She could stare at the calm surface for hours, taking in every inch of vibrant flowers and swaying grasses. The reeds alone could inspire an entire fashion line and she became lost in thought considering how best to recreate that supple strength in a dress. It was only when her sketch book was full that Rarity realised how much time she'd spent on the small harbour, staring out across the lake. "Come along, Rarity," She said to herself, sliding the book back into her saddlebag, "Celestia will have lowered the sun and the stores will close if you dally much longer." Following the main street between the harbour and the train station, Rarity visited a number of small, tourist shops selling local goods and artworks, but nothing caught her eye. Eventually she was drawn to the sounds of a crowd and followed the noise to rows of market stalls filling a cobbled square. The market was similar to the one regularly held in Ponyville, but the items on show were unfamiliar. She paused at a stall selling jungle fruit and harvesting tools, debating whether to buy a gift for Applejack. She knew the farm pony appreciated seeing how fruits were gathered in different parts of the world. But she wasn't exactly on speaking terms with Applejack and didn't feel confident that a bladed mango-harvesting tool was the best way to open communications. Shaking her head, the designer moved on to the next stall which sold a variety of knickknacks. It was the sort of random selection of artwork, decorations and jewellery that could keep her entertained for hours. There was always a treasure hidden in such piles and Rarity prided herself on having an eye for finding them. After nudging aside a few of the less appealing items, she was rewarded with the faded shine of old, engraved metal. "A pocket watch?" Rarity pondered, lifting the circular item with her magical field and examining it more closely, "It is indeed. And not a bad example, if I'm any judge." Pushing the button on top of the clockwork timepiece, Rarity frowned as the watch slowly creaked open, revealing a static clock-face. "How much for the pocket watch?" Rarity asked, holding it up to show the dark green mare running the stall. "The price tag seems a little steep, considering it's broken." "Broken?" The mare repeated in what Rarity interpreted as an accusatory tone. "The hands do not move, no matter how the mechanism is turned," Rarity explained, giving the small dial on the side a twist to demonstrate the lack of working clockwork. "Let me see," the green mare frowned, placing the watch on a clear space and pulling out a magnifying glass. After turning the dial with her hoof a few times and finally rattling the timepiece beside her ear, she sighed, "Fine, I'll knock ten percent off." “I was hoping you could you drop fifty percent from the price,” Rarity said, batting her eyelashes. “Fifteen." "Thirty?" “Twenty percent and that’s as low as I go," the mare said, snatching Rarity's bits out of the air and rapidly counting them. “Much appreciated," Rarity smiled, "I'm certain this will make a wonderful thank-you-gift for Fluttershy. Do you know of a repair-pony in town?" "I sell trinkets, not information." "But I'm sure a well-connected professional, such as yourself, is familiar with all the local trades ponies," Rarity said with another flutter of her eyelashes. “Fine. There's a tinkerer out in the jungle, not far from town, but I wouldn't exactly recommend her," The stall owner explained, "she's weird. Head up to the train station, find the signpost pointing toward the lord's manor, then head in the opposite direction. You'll find a small trail that should lead you right to her." "Thank you." Rarity wasn't sure if she'd successfully charmed the information from the green mare, or if the stall owner just wanted her to leave. Either way, she'd gotten what she needed. Weaving her way back through the bustling market, Rarity paused at the main intersection to look out over the lake before it disappeared from view again. Wishing she'd brought more sketchbooks with her, the designer turned toward the train station, her head filled with ideas for water-flower inspired dresses. "They would suit Fluttershy perfectly," she said to herself, taking the broken watch from her saddlebag and examining it as she trotted up the gentle slope. "As will this timepiece, once it's repaired," she smiled, admiring the engraved design on the outside which depicted a heavily stylised scene of rabbits frolicking. Fluttershy had mentioned wanting a watch for Angel Bunny. Although Rarity had no idea what she needed to time the rabbit for. But it was hard enough to get more than a word or two out of the animal caretaker, so she was just grateful to know that a pocket watch would be well received. Rarity slipped the timepiece away as she entered the jungle, following the trail that the trinket stall owner had described. The world around her grew dark as sunlight was dimmed by layers of deep green foliage. Now that she was within the jungle, she could appreciate how different it was from the Everfree forest. Darker greens, thicker leaves and vines snaking up every tree trunk and hanging from branches. And most noticeable of all, there was a lack of monsters prowling the undergrowth ready to eat, smash, incinerate or turn to stone any passing pony. "It's really rather pleasant," Rarity noted before her gaze dropped to the dirt and slime of the jungle floor beyond the narrow, clear path, "Although I do hope the tinkerer and the archaeological dig sites can be reached without stepping off of the relatively clean trails." The path gently circled around the hill where the resort stood until Rarity found herself on the far side, trotting downward. Her blue eyes scanned the surroundings for signs of monsters, or worse yet, mud. But she found nothing except unfamiliar trees and plants with the occasional small animal scurrying away as she approached. "I'll have to bring a fresh sketchbook next time," Rarity said to herself, admiring the unusual shape of a large leaf which curved over the top of the trail, creating a natural archway, "At this rate I'll have an entire season of designs focused on nature with no pre-Equestrian inspiration at all." Eventually the dense undergrowth thinned out and Rarity found herself passing through a clearer section of jungle with a pony-made shack in the distance. As she approached, she noticed some unusual details in the crude building. At first glance it appeared to be a jumble of warped wood and dented metal piled together. But there were signs of a strong framework underneath, the sort of structure Rarity would've expected on an airship or buildings designed to withstand the harshest storms. "A humble facade arranged over a sturdier interior?" Rarity pondered. Architecture was hardly her strongest subject, but she appreciated good design in all its forms. And there was something appealing about the shack. "Ramshackle-chique," She nodded, trotting up to the door and knocking. The door swung open at Rarity's touch and she found herself staring into a well-used workroom with a lone figure at the far end with her back to the doorway. “Hello?" Rarity called. "Busy," the figure replied in a familiar, mechanical voice. So, this was the mysterious mechanic from the funicular. Rarity could only see her from behind as the tinkerer leaned over a worktable, but she was struggling to understand what was so spooky. Under her coveralls the tinkerer had distinctive proportions for a pony, with powerful forelegs and shoulders. But that body-type was simply unusual on a mare, not spooky. "One moment," The tinkerer added. "Of course," Rarity nodded, waiting in the doorway. From her position, Rarity could only see the tinkerer from the rear, which seemed like an unladylike way to watch somepony, so she turned her attention to the workshop. Blue eyes examined the many tables and tools laid out around the room. She didn't recognise most of them, but she knew enough to realise that they’d been hoof-made, not brought at a store. The room wasn't small, but it was full of equipment and half-disassembled machinery and the air was just as dense with scents. Rarity could smell hot metal and two different kinds of fire, one wood and the other flame-crystals. She also picked up the aroma of more oils, greases and other lubricants than she'd ever smelt before. And underneath everything was the aroma that accompanied lightning, a scent she had only recently become familiar with after meeting Rainbow Dash. The workshop put her in mind of a particularly focused artist's studio, with every possible tool and supply close to hoof for when inspiration struck. Rarity hoped that one day her own workroom would resemble the tinkerer's, except with fabrics and dyes instead of metal and grease. "Almost ready," the mechanical voice called, a head raising to examine a sphere of overlapping metal held in a covered fore-hoof. Seeing the back of the tinkerer's head, Rarity noted the lack of exposed fur, mane or ears sticking out from beneath dark fabric strips. Was the headpiece an improvised mask or hood for metalwork? Rarity was sure the same pony that had built and repaired the items around the room could create something sturdier than cotton wrappings. Giving the sphere a final polish, the tinkerer put the object aside before turning to regard her visitor. The front of the mare's head was almost identical to the back, covered in fabric that hid every feature. The only difference was a pair of goggles over her eyes with dark lenses that whirred as they focused on Rarity. While the designer wouldn't have called it spooky, she had to admit that the sight was, perhaps, a little unnerving. But the more she thought about it, the less strange it seemed. The tinkerer's head wrap was unusual, but it was just a more theatrical and improvised version of the safety masks worn by many mechanic ponies. "I am Indigo Ferrum, the tinkerer, can I help you?" The artificial voice asked, drawing Rarity's attention to the device strapped around the tinkerer's throat. As Indigo stepped forward, Rarity noticed a series of bumps under the head covering. She assumed they were caused by the mare's ears and some aspect of her mane-style, but for all she knew there were more mechanical devices strapped under the cloth. "Indeed, you can," Rarity smiled, taking a step into the workshop, watching where she placed her hooves, “My name’s Rarity and I have this darling little pocket watch in need of repairs," she said, lifting the timepiece out of her saddlebag and holding it up for the mechanic to see. "Yes, interesting," the tinkerer said, plucking the watch from Rarity's magical field and examining it closely, "Minotaur design, very intricate work." "Minotaur?" Rarity asked, stepping forward to take a closer look. "Yes," Indigo nodded, taking a small screwdriver from a nearby workbench and opening the back of the watch, “Very similar in appearance, but they work metal differently to ponies. Did you know all modern Equestrian watches are based on Minotaur designs? That’s why we call hour hands ‘hands’ instead of limbs, hooves or pointers. Equestrians used to have magical timepieces that depicted the cycle of day and night, but they fell out of popularity around a thousand years ago.” “Really? How fascinating," Rarity said, wondering if Minotaur fashion was something she should look into, "I think my friend is going to love this even more then, she does have a fondness for the exotic." Indigo remained silent as she removed the back of the watch to examine the clockwork beneath. The lenses of her goggles whirred, zooming closer to the fine detail. "Those glasses appear useful," Rarity observed. "They are," Indigo nodded. "Where did you get them?" "Made them myself," The tinkerer replied, not looking up from her work. "Really?" Rarity frowned, taking a step closer despite the grease and dirt smudged floor, "I'm surprised to see somepony so talented working in such a small town. Well... outside such a small town." "I like the quiet," Indigo shrugged. "This watch has taken a hard hit. Possibly several. The mechanism is damaged and out of alignment," She held the pocket watch toward Rarity and pointed at the intricate clockwork inside, "I will need to repair, replace, realign and rebalance everything before it will work again." "Oh, that sounds like a lot of trouble," Rarity shook her head, "I was rather hoping it would be a simple matter to fix." "No, very complicated," Indigo confirmed, her strange voice free from emotion. "I hate to be indelicate," the designer sighed, lifting a purse from her saddlebags, "but do you have any idea how much the repairs will cost?" “Cost?” Rarity watched the tinkerer frown. Or she watched the goggle lenses rotated in a way which suggested frowning. Rarity wasn’t sure how they did that. “It will cost nothing,” the mechanic announced. “Nothing?” “The mechanism is a Minotaur design,” Indigo explained, “I've never worked on Minotaur clockwork before. So, I’ll happily repair this for free.” “Are you sure?” Rarity asked, “Money is tight at the moment and I certainly appreciate the generosity, but I don't want to take advantage. A professional should be paid for their work, after all.” Indigo looked up from the pocket watch and shrugged. “I could charge a few bits for materials, if that would help?” She said, returning her attention to the immobile gears, “Brass is not the most common material nearby.” Rarity was about to respond when their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the open doorway. Designer and tinkerer both turned to find two earth ponies entering the workshop with old, overstuffed saddlebags across their backs. “Hello,” Indigo said, putting the timepiece aside. “Can I help you?” The newcomers wore armour around their fore-hooves and their manes were cut short and swept back from their faces. Rarity guessed they were caravan guards or local soldiers. “I hope so,” The pale yellow mare nodded from the doorway, “is one of you the tinkerer?” “That’s me,” Indigo nodded. “Of course,” The mare smiled warmly while the stallion with her walked around the edge of the room, admiring the many contraptions. “We’ve asked around and ponies say that you’re the best when it comes to repairs.” “That’s right,” the tinkerer nodded, “I can fix all kinds of machinery and magical devices.” A frown flickered across Rarity’s face as the dark blue stallion came closer. There was something about his eyes and the state of his saddlebags that worried her. She felt like the dark stains were familiar. “Even pre-Equestrian items?” the yellow mare asked, her gaze never leaving Indigo as her companion circled around them. “We’ve got a tricky problem to solve, if you’re up to the task.” “I can fix anything,” Indigo assured them, “And I do have a little experience with pre-Equestrian tech,” she added, nodding to the metal sphere on the workbench beside her. “Then you’re just the filly we’re looking for,” pale yellow’s friendly grin turned into a grotesque smirk as she gestured to her companion and barked, “Grab her!” The mare pulled a smoke bomb from her saddlebag and threw it to the floor as she strapped a gas mask across her face. The explosive burst and green mist filled the room as the stallion reach for Indigo, his armoured foreleg sparkling with electricity. “What the buck?” the tinkerer gasped, reaching for a heavy tool strapped across her back. But before she could free the hammer, the stallion’s sparking fore-hoof touched her shoulder and there was a flash of light through the thickening green smoke. Rarity heard the thud of a body hitting the ground, but she couldn’t see it. Her eyes were watering, her lungs burning and whatever the green mist was made of, it slowed her thoughts and made her limbs feel heavy. Stumbling blindly, the designer grabbed at her saddlebags as her legs trembled and her magical field winked out. “You got her?” The yellow mare called from somewhere near the door. “Yeah,” The blue stallion replied, his grunt muffled by the gas mask as he hauled Indigo across his back. It was impossible to see their own hooves in front of their faces. But the sound of benches and tools being knocked over echoed around the smoke-filled workroom as the stallion headed toward the mare’s voice. “You’ve taken care of the unicorn?” he asked, finally bumping into the yellow mare who pushed him toward the doorway. “The sleep bomb got her,” the mare grinned as they headed outside and the thick mist started to fade, “I didn’t mess around when I was mixing this-” The boast was interrupted by Rarity staggering out of the workshop wearing a scarf wrapped around her face. The designer’s eyes were watering and mascara ran down her cheeks as she swung a surprisingly powerful hoof at the yellow mare. The blow connected with the earth pony’s head, sending her stumbling back. “Drop the tinkerer, ruffians!” Rarity half snapped and half slurred, her legs trembling and her vision blurring as she tried to focus on the two ponies in the smoke. “You’re feisty,” the yellow mare said, rubbing her aching jaw and straightening her gas mask, “But we don’t have time to play, sweetie.” Rarity spun to kick the kidnappers. But the earth pony knocked the shaky blow aside with ease as she grabbed a second smoke bomb from her saddlebag. Before the half-unconscious designer could think, the grenade hit the ground in front of her and she was surrounded by a fresh cloud of green mist. “You… won’t… get…” Rarity hissed before her eyes closed and she slumped to the jungle floor. “Sweet dreams,” the yellow mare grinned beneath her mask before turning to nudge the blue stallion’s shoulder, “Let’s get out of here. The boss will want to see our new friend.”