Chapter Five: Mechanics and Monsters
by JaketheGinger and Luminary
The world was blurry, dark and constantly pounding at her head.
Berry struggled to keep her eyes open as she lay there, somewhere between waking up and falling back asleep. She experimentally stuck her tongue out and poked at the damp floorboards. Her sense of taste was dulled, but it smelled familiar. Sniffing, she finally realized what it was.
Alcohol. Her best friend and her worst enemy, all in one.
She groaned, laying there in her booze puddle. The alcohol that soaked her fur… she could feel it. It was a taint. A shameful taint that clung to her, like a child holding onto her favorite toy. All her bravado was merely a ruse. Ultimately, she was subservient. Tempted and seduced by the alcohol that she made, or bought, or stole. Enough of it gave her ecstasy, as if it was somehow a good thing. The best thing, maybe. For a few moments, under its spell, she felt like the world was hers to enjoy.
It was all a lie. The only power she had was to make more, then consume it, trapped in an endless cycle.
Once a Regent’s lapdog, always one.
Oh, how funny! Berry knew she was clever, but to say something that beautifully ironic? Genius. She rarely remembered much during her hangovers, yet that stuck out in her mind. The way Trixie had so easily turned on her. How she could’ve burned her to cinders in less than a second. Berry could feel the heat under her hooves as Trixie glared at her. She had crossed one master, so she went and slunk back to the other.
Once a Regent’s lapdog, always one.
Berry tensed, closing her eyes and swallowing some bile that threatened to escape. She shivered as she felt it go back down, burning her throat. When it had settled, her eyes flashed open.
“N-no…” She struggled to her hooves, swaying for a few seconds. Taking stock of her surroundings, she saw that she had obviously picked one of the halls as a good place to pass out. Wine, rum, beer… all of it was spilled around her. Somepony had been mixing drinks.
She blessed her earth pony roots for giving her the strength to move away from the scene. A pegasus or unicorn wouldn’t even be walking, never mind acting like nothing had happened.
Berry kept putting one hoof in front of the other, staring dead ahead. It was dark. Not many of the lamps were lit, so she had probably woken up early. Not surprising, given that alcohol could mess with sleep. If she could tend to her duties, she’d be fine. That’s why she came aboard to begin with.
Berry sniffed and kept going. Nopony was awake, which meant it was the perfect time to personally check their supplies and see if anything was lost yesterday. Turning a corner, she assured herself that the crew would be fine for the next couple days or so, even if the fighting had caused some loss. It could wait.
“Good morning!”
Berry almost stumbled onto her rump, her head feeling as if it’d been cracked open like an egg. She was an earth pony, sure, but that didn’t do much against headaches. “Gah! What?!” she snapped at her greeter. It was one of the newer ones. The less sexy one. “Why are you up so damn early?”
“The early bird gets the worm!” Pinkie cheerfully replied. Her mane was as puffy as ever, prompting Berry to wonder if this was her bed mane. “And I think it’s really important to save that worm and then seize the day!”
An opportunity presented itself that Berry couldn’t ignore. “By the balls?”
Pinkie tilted her head. “What? I haven’t had time to stash any around here yet.”
“Never mind,” Berry grunted. Every time this mare spoke, it was an attack on her skull. “What do you want?”
“I was just looking for the engine. Gotta know what I’m dealing with if I’m staying here, right?” She blinked, then offered a hoof. “You got my name, right? Did you? ‘Cause if you didn’t, I’m Pinkie Pie. Great to meetcha, Berry!”
“What a nice name,” she drawled, loosely shaking Pinkie’s hoof. “Engine room is behind me. Find the stairs, then play hot or cold.”
“Ooo, I getcha!” Pinkie nodded to confirm that she did, indeed, ‘get’ Berry. “Thanks for the help!” She bounced down the hallway, her mess of a mane squishing against the ceiling.
Berry sighed, shaking her head and continuing on. She had a job to do, hungover or not. That didn’t mean there weren’t things that could help. That horrible tea the chef left bubbling away until it was practically mud was as good for hangovers as it was disgusting. She felt a dampness covering parts of her body. Sweat? Maybe. Random oil spillage?
Running into Surprise at the hatch to the galley was an unwelcome… surprise. If only just because the damned white and yellow pony was so brightly coloured that she practically caused a glare. Berry squinted. It made seeing the pegasus less painful to her tender eyes, but it didn’t keep Surprise from noticing her scowl.
“What dark corner did you hide yourself in last night? I was searching for you everywhere,” Surprise said, speaking over the rim of the platter she was carrying. There was a deep bowl of soup on it, and a dark, still-steaming loaf of seedy bread that the pegasus preferred. It probably would normally have smelled amazing, and set the earth pony salivating. Right now, it just turned her stomach.
Berry brushed past the pegasus, grunting. She had no time to be mothered by Surprise, of all ponies. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here now; I’m not dead.”
“Don’t speak too soon. Haven’t decided if I’m going to kill you or not yet,” the pegasus muttered. She floated over to one of the bolted-down tables to set her tray aside. Berry could feel the breeze from the pegasus’s wingbeats on her tail. “What the hay, Berry? The air around you is practically flammable. I could make booze clouds. I thought you were past this?”
“Funny, ‘cause I thought so, too,” Berry replied bitterly, still on her one-way course out of the room.
Forelegs wrapped around Berry, and a chin rested against her back. Surprise didn’t exactly make a great anchor, especially when she was in the air. “Hey, now. C’mon. You and Trixie fight all the time. It’s like, your thing, y’know?”
“She was gonna kill me, Surprise. And that other mare too, if I hadn’t stepped in.” She tried to shrug her pegasus passenger off, to no effect. “I can get attempted murder by your common mook, I’m usually trying to murder him right back, but… it’s different when it’s a friend. You see them change, right in front of you.”
Surprise let go, but only long enough to cling around Berry’s ribs instead. “You know that isn’t true. You’ve seen the Cap’n stop cannonballs. Or light the whole deck of a ship on fire. If she tried to kill you, she wouldn’t have gone after her precious, shiny floor instead. She just isn’t… right in the head, after she does the big stuff.”
“You wouldn’t know. You weren’t in my place, you were in your…” Berry waved her hoof around absently. “Happy-go-lucky land. And I wish I could go with you, but that isn’t how it works.”
Surprise frowned. Berry could practically feel it against her back. “Bad things happen. And there’s plenty of bad ponies. I didn’t snatch my ship away from the Lord Regent for no reason.” The pegasus’s legs tightened around her. The sound of wingbeats deepened, and Berry felt her forelegs begin to lift off of the ground. “Enough of the pouty walking away. Trixie’ll probably come right over to make up with you first thing, okay? You know she will. You’re pretty much her best friend in the whole world. Not that either of you would ever say it. It’s just the hangover making you gloomy, the same way the big spells make Trixie.”
“Well, she’s gonna have to talk to me about it first. Until then, I’ll just be following her orders,” Berry said, slowly stroking Surprise’s forelegs.
The bit of affection seemed to perk Surprise right up. She gave Berry’s mane a quick nuzzle and set her down. “Better. But still gloomy. You barely follow orders at the best of times. So don’t start with the really stupid ones.” Surprise flew overtop the earth pony to hover in front of her instead. “I’m going off to see Cloudy in sick bay. Didja want to come? Or are you going on duty?”
“Gonna work, yeah. It’ll help me sober up. Maybe clear up my thoughts, too.” A small smile was the last thing she gave Surprise before walking off towards solitude through labor… or, well, bookkeeping, at least. The kind you could do in blissful silence and dim candlelight.
“Berry,” Surprise called out, though thankfully not too loudly. “Next time, if you need something to make you feel better, and then make you suffer, come visit me instead, okay? I can cuddle you, then beat you up a little, and then probably repeat step one. And it’ll be way better for you than the bottle.”
The quartermaster kept walking away, a small noise escaping from her that resembled a chuckle, or maybe a snort.
=====☼=====
There was something to be said for sick bay, in Surprise’s mind. Oh, sure, bad things happened there. Ponies were sick and in pain, and that was genuinely bad. On the other hand, ponies on the mend were more than a little fun to coddle. Still, in this case, it was a bit depressing. There were eight or nine ponies taking up the bunks. Some of them, the bad guys, were strapped down. The occasional whimper could be heard. The scent of blood was heavy in the air.
It all gave ample reason to take refuge with a friend.
Surprise sat grinning at Cloud Kicker’s bedside, her left wing outstretched and beating slowly, to ensure the aroma of soup and fresh bread reached her. It was infinitely better than the strong, coppery smell that permeated the place.
Not that it would be enough. The little clay flask beside the tray told Surprise that the tough young marine had been enjoying the medical effects of everyone’s favorite flower salad ingredient, the poppy. A bit of laudanum made ponies even more hilarious, if very hard to wake. Surprise extended a hoof to prod at the mare’s side. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Your nurse-slash-hard-as-nails-superior-officer is here.”
Cloud stirred a little, trying to stretch out her wings. They didn’t make it far, trapped under the blankets. The lavender pegasus squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. “Only thing hard about you is your head,” the injured mare murmured in a groggy, hoarse whisper.
Not bad, Surprise thought, for a mare who’s been shot in the throat.
“If you’re that clever already, I know you’re really awake,” Surprise chirped.
Cloud grumbled something unkind and indecipherable under her breath, and raised her foreleg to rub at her face. The unfamiliar feel of fabric there made her pause and blearily force her eyes open. Not that much clarity was needed, given that the garments were bright yellow. “More socks, Surprise?” Cloud’s voice was indeed off to Surprise’s ear. It was so rough it almost growled. That, when mixed with how hazy the laudanum caused her to sound, made for a strange combination. “I have about five pairs of these now.”
“Uh-huh. Knitted ‘em myself, like always. If you want to stop getting them, stop getting hurt.” Surprise refolded her wing. “Besides, lots of ponies think socks are cute. I know Thunderlane does. You should be thanking me. I’m practically your wingmare, here.”
Cloud rolled her eyes, blinking away some of the gunk in them. “Mmm. Thunderlane is a young stallion. He likes a mare in anything; a mare in nothing is also fine.”
“They can be wonderfully uncomplicated,” Surprise agreed, companionably.
A dopey grin split Cloud’s muzzle, and her rough voice took on a teasing edge. “Oh, have you finally seen the light? Decided to give stallions a go?”
Surprise shook her head. “Just acknowledging the good points. There are wonderfully uncomplicated mares, too. So…” She extended one ivory wing, brushing downy feathertips against the bandages around Cloud’s neck. “... how do you feel?”
“Tired,” Cloud admitted. “Could be worse. I was lucky. Really lucky. The universe must be repaying me for all my clean living.”
A dismissive wave of a hoof was Cloud’s answer to that. She was clearly trying to focus, and her words lost a great deal of their sleepy slur. “Please don’t start beating yourself up again.” The hoof rose further, settling against Surprise’s cheek. The sentiment was a bit diluted by Cloud needing two tries to land her hoof in the proper spot. “You’re amazing. They needed to send their best out to get you. And when they finally pinned us down? You turned their best to our side. Besides, you wouldn’t have been so reckless about putting us in the capital to begin with, like Trixie. Regardless, you didn’t bugger things up any worse than I did. That idiot ball was big enough that it took two ponies to carry. We messed things up so bad that Lyra had to save us. Lyra, Surpr—Ow!” A pale hoof jabbed against her ribs cut off her words.
“Yeah. Lyra. The mare I love. Who saved our lives. Who has a bigger heart than all of us. And who makes a really cute squeaking sound when you nib—” Surprise blinked away an increasingly dreamy look. “I mean, just show some respect.”
Cloud rubbed at her side, grousing, “I’m sure you’re not supposed to hit patients.”
“S’okay, I’m not supposed to be letting you talk, either. Doctor’s orders. But you’d have been pretty miserable being stuck here, just lying around all quiet-like. So might as well fly the whole mile if we fly the inch.” Surprise made a motion toward the back of the room with her wing. There a white-coated, pink-haired mare in equally white clothing was snoring gently with a book draped over her face. “‘Sides, what the Doc doesn’t know, she can’t complain about.”
“Can’t argue with any of that,” Cloud conceded, sleepily. “It is nice to have someone around to pass the time with.” She stretched her wing out and hooked it behind Surprise’s head, dragging her in so she could place a kiss atop Surprise’s muzzle. “You’re the best Captain-first-mate-mother-figure-thing.”
Surprise squirmed out of the feathery embrace and smoothed down her long mane with a sigh. “I used to be an object of worship and desire. Now I’m a mother-thing. Mutinies have to happen. Soon.”
“Mmm, well, wait for me to get out of here first. Just have to rest up.”
“Nope! Have to eat up. I brought soup, which is getting cold. Serves you right for that mother comment.”
=====☼=====
“I’ll be the toast of the town, the girl on the go,” Rarity sang as she used her magic to draw open the small pouch sewn into her gown. She passed a levitation spell through the warped space there, fighting the urge to let her spell get twisted about by the transition. The song helped, keeping her in proper flow. “I’m the type of pony every pony, every pony should know.”
She drew a mascara stick and a brush from that tortured bit of space, and silently thanked her stars it was so much easier to manipulate those openings than create them. She could never get the hang of it. She’d had to cultivate other talents.
“I’ll be the one to watch, the girl in the flow,” she continued, dancing carefully through the sleeping cabin’s tight confines toward a spot where the light was better. She brandished a mirror in her magic and set about attacking her lashes and mane. She had no idea what Pinkie had done to her hair, but it was going to take quite a bit of work to undo it. It was like somepony had drooled on her while she slept. But down that path lay madness, so she willfully ignored it.
The downward tilt of the mirror revealed a bigger problem: the dress. She had no replacement, and it had seen better days. She began to peel off layers of it with her magic, adding more levitation to the zephyr of grooming activity around her. “I’m the type of pony everyp—”
There was a knock at the door of the cabin.
“Pinkie Pie? Did you forget something, dear?” Rarity asked as she divided her attention yet further. She opened the door to let the toymaker back into the cabin. “And what did you do to my mane?”
Rarity peered over her mirror at the door. There wasn’t a vivacious image of bubblegum pink waiting for her. Instead, there was a blue unicorn in a long, immaculately tailored coat and a tricorn cap. The cap was especially obvious, since its owner was hiding her face behind it.
“Why would you open the door if you were indecent?” Trixie complained.
Rarity looked down at herself. She still had her chemise on. The thin, breezy fabric covered her past the midthigh. A coy little grin couldn’t keep itself off her lips. “Now really, Captain. After your atrocious behavior yesterday, you would add insulting my appearance to the list of your faux pas?”
“You’re half-naked. And I’m not interested,” Trixie said from behind the hat. “I’m sure you look fine.”
“We don’t usually wear clothes where I’m from. Before I left, I counted that as a shame. I looked forward to wearing beautiful things, with no special occasion in mind.” Rarity slid her petticoats back up over her hip to better cover her Equestrian-scandalizing flank. “These days, I think I long to see another pony, instead of more fabric. I’m covered, Captain Lulamoon.”
Trixie lifted her cap. Her expression spoke volumes about how she almost pulled it back down. She lifted her gaze from Rarity’s skimpy clothing, and focused on her face, at least until Rarity sat down, and the brush and makeup began to whirl once more.
The captain watched the display with a certain morbid fascination, like one about to witness a train crash. “How are you not poking your eyes out? And did I hear you singing when I came in?”
Rarity turned to her mirror, batting her eyelashes at herself. Satisfied, she looked back to Trixie. “Mmm. I’d like to say it was all inborn talent, but that would be a lie. Oh, I’ve always had a gift for splitting my attention, but for the most part, it’s practice. Most fillies and colts worry about power. How much they could levitate, what spells they could perform. For me, it was more about doing things with grace and beauty.
“As for the song, well, it just helps me focus. Have you ever just had to sing? Had the words all but appear in your soul? Well, that’s what came to me, when I first came here. To Equestria, I mean.” Rarity stared off into space over Trixie’s shoulder, by all appearances lost in the memory. “The memory was a pleasant one to hold onto. I was so full of hopes, and dreams of heroism.”
“When you came from your… nudist colony?” Trixie ventured. “Your hopes and dreams didn’t survive?”
Rarity watched her own expression become grave in the mirror. It was not beautiful. She forced it toward something more neutral. “I came here and found the divide between the tribes growing every day. I found ponies starving. Ponies killing each other like savages,” she hissed. “I found that the beautiful world I thought I lived in was a great deal uglier than I had imagined.” Rarity shook her head stiffly. “But you didn’t come to reminisce. You came here to apologize, didn’t you?”
Trixie blinked. Her ear flicked uneasily. “And why would you think that?”
“You’ve been stalling. You don’t strike me as a pony who tip-hoofs around an issue. But you do strike me as one for whom apologies aren’t easy.” Rarity set her brush aside, and looked toward Trixie expectantly.
“Isn’t this the point where you tell Trixie that she’s forgiven? That it was nothing?”
Rarity pursed her lips. “No, I don’t think so. It was certainly something. The bruises prove as much. Nor do I care to be spoken of as if I were a lunatic.”
Trixie’s expression edged toward a scowl. She pushed that aside before she made it all the way there. “I…” The captain trailed off.
Rarity waited.
“I’m sorry. I treated you unfairly. You wouldn’t think that too much excellence could be a problem, but it is.” Trixie glanced to the side. “When you have magical muscle like mine, the energy to resist the magic leaves you more quickly than the magic itself. But by the time I’ve drained myself near to death, there’s still a great deal of potential left. At that point, I don’t have the strength to keep it in check. Add one little spark of anger, and it all explodes.”
After mulling it over for a moment, Rarity nodded her head. “It would have been better without the explanation, but apology accepted. They say the Princess’s pupil has a similar issue with control. Rumor says that she was scared by a snake that had snuck into her bed, and half her town was ablaze by the time Her Majesty arrived to calm her. Mind, that’s not to say I give you permission to act similarly in the future. Your first mate sent you off to sleep, and you seem much improved. Perhaps consider doing so immediately next time.”
Trixie’s lips seemed to want to curl into a frown. Instead, she nodded her head curtly. The silence stretched after that, making Rarity worry that perhaps she’d gone a bit far in her playful condescension.
Thankfully, Trixie broke the yawning quiet when she spoke. “I might be sorry about the way I acted, but that doesn’t make your story exactly convincing. Celestia at least has the force of history behind her. And windows in the Hall of Legends in Canterlot, and documents attributed to her. Don’t get me wrong, Nightmare Night is my favorite day of the year. I doubt I’d be the mare I am today without it.” Trixie levitated her tricorn cap off her head, giving it a wistful look. “Recalling that makes me miss my real hat even more.”
Rarity fought down her haberdasherous curiosity. Business before hats. “We had a Nightmare Night, too. The stories we told were a little different. I was surprised by how… ghoulish it was here. All talk of the poor mare eating foals. How horrid.” The noblemare shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just need a moment to think.”
The moment lasted until Trixie started to tap her hoof impatiently against the deck. Rarity rolled her eyes.
“Very mature, Captain Lulamoon.” The name prompted Trixie to begin to object, but Rarity spoke over her. “Very well then, let’s think of this differently. Let’s put aside the question of my sanity.”
“Isn’t putting sanity aside the problem at hoof?”
“Oh, ha-ha.” Rarity raised a hoof to make a dismissive wave. “It doesn’t matter if you believe what’s on those scrolls, or if Nightmare Moon exists. Nor does it matter if my ‘nudist colony’ is real, since I’m not the concern. The Lord Regent would seem to believe that she’s real, judging by the tone of the letter, and the implications of a long correspondence. It begs several questions, does it not?”
Trixie nodded her head slowly. “It’s an interesting bit of trivia, at least. I’m not sure what it gets us. Cults and household gods have been ‘in’ for the last decade. Even your Celestia.”
The Cult of the Radiant, Rarity thought, unable to suppress a titter. At least she muffled it behind a hoof. “Oh, it is cute how devout they are, despite getting it all wrong. Celestia would hate it, of course. I have one of their badges on me, somewhere. I was going to bring it back for her when I next visited.”
Rarity shook her head, banishing the pleasant digression. “Regardless, I would think that a better understanding of your enemy is valuable knowledge. Even if it’s just some other malign creature masquerading as Nightmare Moon, or even if the whole thing is a falsehood, we have a hint that there might be another power behind the throne. I suppose the Lord Regent might also be quite mad. Considering all that’s happened in the last few years, and how much worse things have gotten, isn’t that worth knowing?”
Trixie made a wordless, frustrated sound. “You really are a courtier, aren’t you? A manipulative, political animal.”
“I shall do my utmost to take that as a compliment,” Rarity said, dryly. “Does that mean I’ve convinced you?”
“That you’re not crazy? No. Not in the slightest.” Trixie rose up onto all four hooves, her horn lighting to place her hat in its proper position atop her head. She turned toward the door. “But that it might be worth exposing the Regent as a dupe, madpony, or fool being played by a pony, prophet, dragon, or spirit with far too much time on its hands? Yes. The unicorns would eat him alive after that.”
Rarity spoke up after Trixie had taken a few steps toward the cabin’s door. “Captain, if I may ask, what possessed you to turn on the Regent? All we ever heard in Canterlot were stories. Tales of the heroine being tempted by coin and dishonorable power.”
Trixie stopped, but didn’t look back. “Conscience, Miss Belle, or so I’d like to think. But that isn’t why I hate him. Him and his monstrous father.” She turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. “Those three diamonds. What do they mean?”
Rarity’s lips quirked into a smug, self-satisfied little smile. “Oh, so you did look.” Trixie’s cheeks warmed, and she opened her mouth to offer a retort, but Rarity continued on before she could. “Beauty. Finding it. Bringing it forward. That’s who I am at my innermost.”
“And does this supposed life of espionage allow you to live that out?”
Biting her lip, Rarity considered the idea for a moment. She slowly nodded her head. “I intended to be a fashionista. Brightening up the world by making everypony a delight to look upon. But… this still feels true to me. I went into the world to see its beauties, to experience the wonders of a culture so dissimilar from my own. Even if the results weren’t what I expected, the goal seemed true. And even when I took those letters, it seemed correct. The Regent and what may lurk behind him are horrific, and best opposed.”
Trixie’s tricorn cap lifted off of her head, floating in a rose aura. She examined it critically. “I’m a performer, Miss Belle.” Her voice took on a more grandiose lilt. “Captain Trixie should be The Great and Powerful Trixie. A pony who fills all she passes with the sort of magic and legend so missing in their little lives. A pony who makes a grim existence into one of wonder.”
Trixie started toward the room’s exit once more, far more reluctantly putting her cap back atop her head. “Sky Captain Trixie lives every single day as a lie. She has ever since she was rounded up and pressed into service. Every day is filled with the knowledge that I am the wrong Trixie. And for that, the Regent will pay.”
=====☼=====
Pinkie trotted around the depths of the ship, Gummy trustily gumming onto her tail like he usually did. Despite the realization that she’d probably never get back home for a super-long while, it was time to look forward, and that meant she had to run around and explore her new surroundings. She’d only need to go around the whole ship once before forming a map of it in her head, hidden nooks ‘n crannies ‘n all.
Mama Pie always said that the best way to do things was to start at the bottom and work your way up. Even though Pinkie had argued about it at lot as a filly, in retrospect, it probably would have been hard to build that rock silo back home from the top down. Gravity was the worst sort of nemesis, the kind that never showed itself. So Pinkie went all the way down the stairs, found some others, and went down those, too.
Like with all the very best explorations, she found something big and shiny almost right away. A whirling, swirling tornado, all twisting dark clouds, was trapped inside what looked like the world’s biggest glass bottle. Little zappy bolts of lightning were leaping out of it to brass spikes lining the inside. For some reason, that was sitting on top of a hulking Thousand-Year Coal boiler, which was familiar, if about a bajillion times bigger than the one she had to put into her ride-a-saur when her usual windy-things didn’t work out.
It was also, disappointingly, very off. None of the big pistons and spinny arms and steamy vents were going at all. In fact, aside from the tornado, the only thing moving in the whole big bay was a single pink and green tail sticking out from under the boiler.
Maybe it was one of the dust bunnies her sisters had told her about when she was younger. It did kinda look a bit grubby, grimey, and greasy in places. Not that any of those things stopped Pinkie from taking action.
“Hey! You’re not meant to be under there, it’s dangerous!” she warned, helpfully giving the tail a pull.
Like a particularly stubborn weed growing in a perfectly good rock field, the dust bunny attached to the tail refused to be uprooted. Instead, there came a startled yelp and the ring of metal on metal.
“Are you trying to kill me!? Stop that!” the bunny shouted. It sounded like a girl. Not dusty at all, really.
“You’re not a dust bunny,” Pinkie concluded. “They sound a lot more like,” she cleared her throat and put on a grouchy, thick accent, “‘raaawr imma dust bunneh’! But dust bunny or not, it’s still dangerous in there, so let’s get you out!”
“No! Don’t touch me. I’ve got the bottom panel propped up with my hooves.” The note of panic in the voice was rising. The mystery not-bunny made a wordless sound of exasperation. “And you made me drop my wrench!”
“Oh, sorry!” Pinkie flopped down onto the floor, peering into the gap under the boiler. “I think I can fit in and help ya! Incomiiiing!” She started worming and forcing her way into the small space, sliding up next to the grubby pony. Gummy did not follow suit, instead waiting and blinking.
The pony seemed not to be so much working as imitating a really badly made pretzel. Her rear legs were almost past her head, hooves shoved up against a huge slab of oily metal to keep it from falling and squashing her. One of her forehooves was half buried between them in a mess of pipes, plugging up a valve that was dripping greasy water. Her remaining hoof was trying to ward off Pinkie Pie. Her left wing was stretched far out to the point of being all shaky, trying to grab a wrench just out of reach.
Though her voice needed some work, the pegasus was otherwise doing a great dust bunny impression. Her white coat was marked by smears of grease, and her mechanic’s jumpsuit was so covered in dust from squirming under the machine that it almost blended in with her coat.
Pinkie took one look at her and giggled. “Wow, I didn’t know yoga was an extreme sport!” Blinking, she noticed the wrench that the mechanic was so desperately trying to reach. “Oh, lemme get that for ya.” It was almost insulting how effortlessly she reached over the pegasus and grabbed the wrench, passing it to her free hoof.
The pegasus took the wrench numbly, staring at Pinkie in that familiar, wide-eyed way. “How’d you stretch li—” She stopped mid-word, shaking her head. “Okay, I better get finished. I think the air down here must be bad. It’s making me see things.” She passed the wrench off to her mouth and curled her body up all the more, to get the wrench up into the boiler’s workings and close a valve.
Pinkie stayed there and observed with her big blue eyes. “Need any help there?”
“Naw unlesh you know why the gearbocsh has seized,” the pegasus said around the wrench. With a quiet groan of strain she pushed her back hooves up higher, moving the panel further out of the way to reveal a mess of cogs and belts. “Checked the preshure. The steam’sh flowing right. Can’t shee anything wrong with the gearsh.”
“Hmmm…” Pinkie tapped her chin, thinking most thinkingly. “Scoot over and lemme take a look?”
The pegasus gave her a flat look, then reached up to tap the wrench against the half-ton of brass held up by her rear hooves.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be able to handle it! One hundred percent!” Pinkie said, grinning confidently, her wide smile a light in the murky darkness beneath the boiler.
Distinctly less than confidently, the pegasus offered the other side of her wrench. “You’re the one they hired to help in the engine room, right? Not the rish noble?”
The question sparked a rare, blunt look from Pinkie. “Do I look rich to you?”
Like with most white ponies, the pegasus’s blush was very easy to see. “You look rish of shpirit?” she offered, weakly.
“Awwww, thank you!” she cheerfully replied, shuffling over so that the two were touching. “Okay, I’ll get help. Don’t need the wrench. Gummy! Mommy needs you!”
A few seconds later and the sound of whirring gears and claws clicking on the floor signalled the approach of the robotic alligator. He came up to Pinkie’s side, and she grabbed him before he went anywhere else.
“There’s a good boy. Now open wiiiiide!”
Gummy obeyed, opening his maw. Pinkie put a hoof on his tail and started cranking it, causing his neck to extend up into the inner recesses of the boiler, amongst the rusty gears. When he was far enough in, she pressed a button on his side, causing his neck and head to spin violently. Flashy, bright sparks came flying out, like mini-fireworks gone wild. The two ponies winced from how amazingly awesome it was, but Pinkie held firm and Gummy kept spinning and spinning until the gears started spinning, too! Pinkie actually felt a little dizzy from it all.
The problem seemingly solved, Pinkie stopped rotating Gummy and retracted his neck. “That’s my special little guy!” she cooed, nuzzling the alligator, then letting him go off and do his own thing.
The pegasus was speechless, hiding behind her free hoof, half peering over it with wide eyes. She must have been really, really impressed. She was even shaking with excitement!
“Think that did it?” Pinkie asked, peering at the boiler’s gears.
“I don’t even know what that was!”
“That was me fixing the problem, silly. Just needed Gummy for the help.” Pinkie proudly smiled down at her pet, who was waddling away from her. “Isn’t he super-duper?”
The mechanic looked from the waddling alligator, up to the gearbox, and back again. “What did it do?”
“Gummed out the gunk and ground the gears, that little one waaaay in the back was too big,” Pinkie explained, patiently. “Standard stuff, really.”
The pegasus swallowed. “Right. Totally normal.”
“Totally normal,” Pinkie agreed. “So how about we get out of here and make proper ‘hellos,’ ‘kay?”
=====☼=====
“So, I noticed you didn’t put any pretty flowers or scents in the machine, so, er, is Blossomforth your nickname, or were your parents really determined to make you a flower pony, but ‘cause you’re a strong, independent mare, you don’t need no destiny?” Pinkie asked, walking side-by-side with the mechanic.
Blossomforth, who had been in the midst of explaining where everything on the engine deck was, paused. A frown edged inward on her lips. “They generally don’t like it when machines get gummed up with flowers around here.”
She walked on, and it seemed like that was the only explanation she’d give. After a few steps, however, she continued, “I was born in Cloudsdale, but my parents worked in Canterlot. When the Lord Regent refused the Clean Cloud reforms after all those pegasi got sick or died, and the pegasi moved the city to the Hinterlands, my parents stayed behind. And, well, you’re from Canterlot, right? Do you see a lot of green things there?”
“Sure! Like moss, mold, and that sludgy green soup Rarity used to serve a lot!” Pinkie answered, innocently.
The pegasus stared for a long moment, then sighed. “Yes. Gross stuff. Not flowers. We were too poor for me to move, so I did what I had to. I always liked tinkering. So, I just ran with it.”
“I’ve never seen any real flowers, ‘cept for in a salad. Not growing, I mean. Heard a lot of stories though,” Pinkie admitted. She paused, pondering. “Seen them in my dreams sometimes, too. Those were nice.”
A little smile appeared, erasing that nasty old frown. It made Blossom’s freckly face a whole lot cuter, Pinkie thought.
The engineer closed her eyes, nodding her head. “You’ll see them now that you’re coming with us. I have. Whole fields of wildflowers, in dozens of colours, and each field different. I traded up for a bunk with a porthole, which took some doing. But I keep some of my favorites there, in the light.”
“Wow, maybe you can show me some of them later?!” Pinkie asked, hopping on the floorboards. Even they were squeaking in delight. Or maybe creaking in agony. “And maybe get some little flowers maybe and—I dunno, make a necklace, or something! And then we can trade ‘em!”
Blossom laughed, which was even better than the smile. She scrunched up her muzzle. “You’re just a big filly, I swear. Well, at least Scootaloo will have someone to play with.” She gave the bouncing mare a good-natured bump with her hip, and led her through the hatch to a second engine room.
It was much like the first. Same big boiler. Same spinny, crackling tornado stuck behind glass. But in this one, the boiler churned, and roared, and clanked. Bellows heaved, feeding the fires of the enchanted coal within. When Blossom spoke, her voice was almost drowned out by the noise.
“It’s not easy to find ponies who can work with the Vai—The Unbound Skies,” she said. “You probably won’t be working much with the engines themselves. Those need pegasi like me, which is the unusual bit. Shipbuilding is a unicorn industry. Working from a pegasus perspective gave Surprise some pretty… radical ideas. They work, and they can do what normal engines relying on just Thousand-Year Coal can’t, but it’s all very temperamental. And to make it worse, there’s a lot of complicated gearwork. It’s hard to find ponies who can work with that. It’s a bit of a niche art. Everything’s power and brute force these days.”
“Just leave it to me!” Pinkie shouted, her mouth ever increasing in width to match the intensity of her voice.
“I intend to,” Blossomforth answered, subtly shying away from the strange mare. “Well, after you help me with Engine Two, back where we were. That’s what Gear Box, our last clockwork expert, was doing when… there were problems. That’s one of the reasons we were in Canterlot. It’s hard to find enchanted goods like replacement self-winding mainsprings. Even harder to find replacement experts.”
“Don’t worry, we can be tinker-buddies,” Pinkie said, slinging a forehoof over Blossom’s withers. “You’re super flexible, so you can reach all the hidden dusty stuff causing a jam, and I can crank and cronk things, and then Gummy can sweep in and save the day!”
Gummy, who was on Pinkie’s head, fell off. He landed on his back and stayed that way, his little legs flailing to the tune of the whirring gears.
Blossomforth looked down at the hapless gator, incredulously. She folded her ears back and sighed. “Well, he’ll probably still get stuck less often than Lyra.”
“Silly Gummy. You can dance later.” Pinkie propped the plucky alligator upright. She gave his hat a little tap to straighten it. “And yeah, speaking of all that, what can you tell me about the other ponies here? ‘Cause it’s like a rogues gallery of… rogues.”
“I’m not exactly a social butterfly,” Blossom answered uneasily, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “I might not be the best to ask for all the latest gossip and insights.”
“But you are a normal butterfly, ‘cause you like flowers,” Pinkie quipped, winking. “But c’mon, you gotta know some things.”
“I guess. I’ve been around for years now. What did you want to know about, exactly? Or who?”
“Your best friend on the ship, first!” Pinkie gave the engineer a boop on the nose, then on each of her freckles until her hoof was swatted away.
Blossom furrowed her brow, wearing a super-thinky look. “Guess that’s Cloud Kicker. She heads one of the two marine squads. She’s very… old world. All the Kickers are. Work hard. Fight hard. Play hard. I didn’t think I’d get along with someone so intense. But… well… she’s refreshing. She’s direct, and fun, and doesn’t talk at all about gears and machines. Opposites work okay together, sometimes.”
The pegasus scuffed her hoof against the deck. “She’s off in the sick bay. She got shot yesterday. Honestly, I could hardly sleep. I hung around until the doc kicked me out. Then I just worried and paced all night.”
Pinkie’s usual energy got put on hold, for the moment. “Is she okay?” The earth mare threw a foreleg over her and gave her a squeeze. “Are you okay? ‘Cause even a little bit of okay is a good thing.”
A little ghost of a smile reappeared. “Distraction helps. Like showing you around. She’s fine anyway, they think. I guess I’m just a worrywart.”
“Worrywarts are ugly. You’re a real cutie.” The toymaker dusted some soot off Blossom. “A little mucky, maybe, but even that’s kinda cute, in a way. I can see it in your eyes, too; Granny Pie always said they were the windows to the soul. So I guess that makes your mouth the door, huh?”
Muzzle and cheek reddening, Blossom laughed again, which was pretty good time—even for Pinkie—on a best-friend-in-the-hospital cheer-up. “Well, my mother said the gateway to a stallion’s heart is through his stomach. So I guess pony anatomy is just a little weird, all around.”
“I’ll say. What are your bones made out? Rubber?” A flash of inspiration hit Pinkie, making her gasp, just like all the times she had thought of those great toy designs. “You’re rubber, I’m glue!”
“You’re something, all right,” Blossom said, shaking her head and smiling.
=====☼=====
Berry was holed up in storage, checklist in hoof, eyes on the crates and supplies around her. It was a mish-mash of boxes of different sizes, ropes, junk, and of course, cobwebs. She smirked when she remembered the time she dared the captain’s little steward to lick one of those. Good times.
The abrupt departure meant that the crew hadn’t gotten everything they required, so she needed to see what the score was. That included food; feeding a crew wasn’t easy, and a hungry crew was a potentially mutinous one.
She tried to exclude the sight of stacked barrels and crates of bottles from her mind by sheer force of will. There might not be any Canterlot vineyards anymore, but the city was still a great place to stock up on ‘morale boosters.’ Given that purposeful blindness, she could perhaps have been forgiven for not seeing the collection of blue and purple colours watching her from the collection of hateful casks.
“Berry…” The voice made Berry jump, but its confident lilt was as unmistakable as it was short-lived. The tone shifted to awkward-as-Tartarus almost immediately. “... how are the supplies on Trixie’s ship?”
“Enough to last us a short trip, but only that, Captain,” Berry replied, not giving Trixie the benefit of a single look. “So, you come to finish the job?”
“No?” Trixie answered in confusion, one ear tilting quizzically. “If I wanted to deal with supplies and paperwork, I wouldn’t have a quartermaster. Never mind a most excellent and expensive one.”
“You know what I mean,” Berry grunted, hefting a small crate onto the ground. It landed with a thud, and she opened it, rummaging through its contents.
“Do I?” the captain asked. “Why don’t you explain it to me as if I had no clue?”
“Cut the crap, Captain,” Berry snapped. “I’ve thought you were many things, but stupid was never one of them.”
A dismissive snort from the faceless voice. “Oh, even an exceedingly intelligent mare like myself can still have trouble grasping a pony’s personal delusions. Since I’ve made nice with the cracked noblemare, and she isn’t here, I fail to see what you’re getting at.”
The earth pony snorted, turning to face Trixie. Her eyes narrowed. “How about you flying off the handle, completely ignoring me, and then almost killing me when I tell you to stop? Is that a ‘personal delusion’ enough for ya? Or have you deluded yourself into thinking The Great and Powerful Trixie can do no wrong, like you always do?”
Trixie raised her muzzle, giving her mane a prim little shake. “Almost killing you? Oh yes, it certainly sounds like more than enough of a delusion to me. It’s true that Trixie may have been acting like a mule last night, but you must have been deep into your cup to think I tried to kill you. Or would have.” She raised a hoof and made a dismissive wave. “Trying to kill you would have left a fine, red, wine-scented mist. Not a surly, unharmed earth pony.”
“Hold on. Deep into my cup?” Berry pressed, stepping forward.
Though she stood her ground, the unicorn wrinkled her muzzle in distaste. “Oh, are we going to pretend that I can’t smell the booze oozing out of your every pore from here?”
Berry held back a growl, walking up to Trixie. “This is so typical of you. Bringing down others just so you can feel better about yourself. Leave my personal issues out of this.” She jabbed a hoof at the other mare’s chest. “Got it?”
Trixie tried to brush that hoof aside. The gesture proved useless, since she couldn’t even shift Berry’s leg. The earth mare couldn’t keep a smug look off her face.
Gathering her dignity, Trixie raised her chin further, just so she could properly look down her nose at the taller mare. “Oh? And why would we be doing that? I thought it was open season for attacks on a pony’s character. Trixie is, after all, forever the Regent’s lap dog, isn’t she?”
Berry looked away, gritting her teeth. “Just leave me alone, all right? I’ll get things done, but only if I’m allowed to do them in peace. But you should realize that you lost just about the only pony actually willing to challenge you when your ego’s gotten too inflated.”
“How will I ever get along without you there to throw coal onto the fire of a volatile situation?” Trixie retorted. “I came here to apologize, but I can’t for the life of me remember why.”
Berry scoffed. It was a bitter laugh. “Probably because you never wanted to in the first place.”
“Oh, you would think that.” Trixie scowled, her ears sinking. “You’re so quick to play the victim, but you never give anypony else the benefit of the doubt. Most especially Trixie, who’s only ever the villain.”
“You were the villain, remember?” Berry pointed out. “Or did we all dream up Admiral-of-the-White Trixie hunting down Surprise?”
“Were is the key word. I was the villain.” Trixie was the one to reach out and shove a hoof against Berry’s chest. Unlike the reverse, it didn’t make Berry flinch, or even shift. “Was. I gave it all up. The fame. The power. The bits. Trixie would have had Equestria at her hooves in a few more years. But that’s not enough for Berry Punch. No, to her, list-checker and righteous judge of all ponykind, nothing can ever make a pony something other than a thug who kills her friends.”
“Pot, meet kettle, Trixie.” Berry smirked victoriously, drawing in close so Trixie could smell the alcohol on her breath. “Who’s victimizing themselves now?”
Rather than try her luck at matching her flimsy strength against an earth pony, Trixie made a dismissive huff and half-turned toward the stairs. “There’s clearly no point in continuing this charade. I came to say ‘sorry,’ so I will.” Her voice took on a venomous note. “I’m oh-so-sorry I scared poor Berry after almost burning out my horn to save her life. Obviously, next time I shouldn’t bother. Better to be lined up in front of the Regent’s guillotine than have to face so terrifying an ogre as Trixie when she’s almost too tired to walk.”
Berry turned away, flicking her tail in Trixie’s face. “Don’t you have a ship to run?”
After brushing some imagined hair from her coat, Trixie stalked off toward the stairs, though being who she was, she could hardly allow somepony else the last word. She called back, “Shockingly, Trixie still does. And all it cost her to keep it was one drunken quartermaster having a snit, and a dented teapot. It was a bargain!”
The sound of a crate being kicked across the room resonated in the hold.
=====☼=====
Trixie stomped her way up the stairs, practically seeing red. Well, pink, really. Her horn lit in sympathy to her mood, ready to lash out at her merest whim. Oh, how satisfying and effortless it would be to smash a hole in one of the walls. It would be something she actually had the power to control. Ponies were never so easy as that.
She didn’t do that. She closed her eyes when mounting the last steps, clearing her head and extinguishing her horn. There was no need for another show like last night. Calming herself was never easy. It wasn’t exactly something they spent a lot of time on when training naval combat magi. Better to allow the more paltry power of your average unicorn to run a little rampant. Setting an opposing ship aflame in one’s fear and rage was a combat tactic that broadly worked, compared to the ineffective flailing most unicorns would manage otherwise.
By the time Trixie opened her eyes, it was almost too late to avoid the little orange filly doing her best to appear as if she was innocently inspecting the walls rather than listening in. The unicorn stumbled to a halt, tripping over her hooves and banging her fetlock painfully against the edge of the stair. She spent a moment instructing Scootaloo in the fine art of sailor’s cursing while she shook the ache out of her hoof.
“... so you want a cup of tea, right?” Scootaloo asked, after trying to translate the angry rant.
Trixie practically growled, yanking the little filly up off the ground and floating her along the hallway at her side, marching with single-minded dedication toward the deck. The banged hoof made her wince with every step. “No.”
The pegasus buzzed her wings in agitation, her little legs flailing about in the air. “I’m sorry, Captain! Don’t throw me off the edge!”
Scootaloo zipped through the air in an arc, so she could be lowered in front of Trixie’s face. The captain give her a hurt, incredulous look. “Et tu, Scootaloo? Even Trixie’s biggest fan thinks she’s a monster?”
“Not a monster, but…” Scootaloo looked at her suspended limbs, letting out a strained grunt. “Put me down? Please?”
With a sigh, Trixie plopped the filly down onto her back, carrying her that way instead. It helped to keep the little pegasus from seeing her troubled expression, in any case. “You’ve been asking me about that flying lesson. I was just going to take you to go have one with some of the marines. That way, at least one thing might go right today.”
Scoots’s face immediately brightened up, the sound of her wingbeats loud and proud. “Really?!”
It took some effort to force a smile onto her face, but Trixie managed, somehow. Part of putting on a proper performance was attitude, and no amount of worry or heartache could make Trixie any less of a performer. She looked back at the pegasus who was practically hopping on her back in excitement. “Can you think of anything better to do today, my enthusiastic little admirer?”
How easy it would have been, even mere minutes ago, to call Scootaloo that with absolute confidence. Now, however, it was all Trixie could do to keep her smile fixed woodenly in place.
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FINALLY! A nice new chapter!
4269130
Snirk.
We'll see about that by the end of the chapter.
4269143 I actually read the whole thing before commenting. Soooo...
4269152
Your bookworm-approved reading speed is very dreamy.
Or maybe time flies when you're making a hundred last second edits.
4269182 Eh. Take your pick.
Pinkie befriending Blossom ... God that was cute, funny, and deep.
As hot as it sounded, the way the scene actually played out was better. Maybe next time in a dream sequence or something.
4269400
I'm so unappreciated in my time.
Yay, it's back!
"was disgusting.into sleep. She"
Something appears to have gone wrong here.
4269576
Thus explains the missing 'sleep' from the first paragraph. How it ended up down there, only Google shall ever know.
Thankee! Fixed.
>> 621Chopsuey
It was cute. I almost wanted to have odd couples moments like that in other stories (even if in this case they are not a couple) such as those two in the Winningverse. They are both tinkerers in that story too so the concept would have been similar and fun.
4269419 Kiddo, you're always appreciated. T'is the truth, no pink lie.
You have no idea... *innocent whistle*
(Enjoyed the chapter.
)
Don’t worry, we can be tinker-buddies,” Pinkie said, slinging a forehoof over Blossom’s withers. “You’re super flexible, so you can reach all the hidden dusty stuff causing a jam, and I can crank and cronk things, and then Gummy can sweep in and save the day!”
ICWATUDIDTHERE
Steampunk ponies, yay!
Also: this is awesome!
Yesssss
Enjoyed Pinkie and Blossomforth's scene probably the most, just by nature of how, like, normal, Blossom is. She doesn't have any particularly cartoonish personality quirks, which probably should make her boring, but here she's a welcome anchor for Pinkie. Plus, that line about blushing on white ponies being really obvious was adorable.
This was kind of confusing. "Her rear legs were almost past her head" was what threw me. I mean, when I stop to think about it, it's obvious she's on her back with her limbs all up in the air, but that wasn't the image that first jumped to mind. Seemed like she was sitting, or standing with her back against the slab of metal.
Berry and Trixie was decent, and it definitely felt natural, but every time Berry shows up I just know she's going to be sad and negative, so she's not my favorite. I know that's kind of her deal, but yeah, I'm wary of whether it's going to go anywhere. Something to make her a little more interesting, like even just digging a bit into her alcoholism, might help. I dunno. It's good to have someone willing to stand up to Trixie, and there's a respect there she doesn't quite get from other people who kinda talk about her behind her back, so I like that. Also: I liked those little hints of earth pony strength being a frustration for Trixie. You get the sense they're all not particularly used to the subtle social quirks of mixing races.
Trixie and Rarity was delightful. Enjoying how Rarity is proving her sanity by just... being sane, and carrying forward. I was expecting it to be something that might drag on for a while, as she proved her sanity bit by bit. I like this better. Also: I keep forgetting that nudity isn't normal for folks on this side of the ocean, so it's kind of fun seeing Rarity so casual about it while everyone else is just appalled. Still love that clothing covers up their cutie marks, like it's some kind of repression. It's a cool element.
Okay I love how Trixie has a soft spot for kids, and cares about their approval as much, if not more, than her crew's. It's cute as hell.
4283616
Blossom's not a main character. So we can risk her not being quiiiiite as colourful, just to get a chance at having a generally friendly straight mare to offer a bit of sanity in this crew full of nutjobs.
I'll take a look at the phrasing in a little bit to make it clearer that she was on her back.
Will keep the Berriness in mind. Thankee. That's useful feedback.
The clothing thing is probably one of the hardest things to remember, while writing. We do have to make a hilarious amount of corrections just because all of us aren't used to the idea of ponies never being naked. But strangely, I think it's one of the changes from the canon world I'm most happy with. There's just so much to do and imply with it. Especially in relation to Cutie Marks and how it socially de-emphasizes them, while they still remain so existentially important to ponies.
Huh. Strange. I swear I found this story through RariPie, but it wasn't listed in the group's stories, nor is RariPie listed in this story's groups.
...was I simply fated to find you?
Well that's one way to put it.
I never expected Blossomforth
Going in, I was expecting this to happen. Huh. I guess my story sense's a-tingling
your waythe wrong way. I love it when stories subvert my expectations.4288275 Hmm has Scootaloo gained a cutie mark yet? Will we ever know?!
And please, do continue! I'm liking this setting quite a
bit.lot.Huh. So Surprise's theory was right.
Well. Catching up with my reading after a long period of monkeying around (meaning, writing), I guess this was the best place to start
Hah. Poor delicate Rarity
Well. Scoots probably picked up some of that already anyway
Remarks and corrections:
> A dismissive wave of a hoof was Cloud’s answer to that.
Paragraph missing? There was nothing there for Cloud to answer to; the previous paragraph was her too. If this was imported from Google Docs, you might want to check that more thoroughly; the converter is known to occasionally lose paragraphs.
> There a white-coated, pink-haired mare in equally white clothing was snoring gently
I'm fairly sure this needs a comma after "There".
> she’d probably never get back home for a super-long while
Not sure if this is deliberate courtesy of PinkieThink(TM), but the "never" and the "super-long while" kind of contradict each other.