Clockwork

The rest of the day passed as normal. Well, as normal as a day could get spent in the middle of a warzone in a foreign jungle where half of everything that lived in it wanted to kill you and the other half would do something beyond horrible to your corpse. As Clockwork busied himself with making sure that all of his belongings were in order, he found himself occasionally saying hello to a steady trickle of young zebras who poked their heads inside his temporary residence, only to run away giggling the moment he noticed them. One young filly had managed to work up the courage to actually touch a primary feather. I mean, with puppy eyes like that, how could he have denied her?

“Clockwork.” a familiar mare's voice called from just outside. "Uchawi has requested the team's presence at Nyumbani. Given recent events, the elders wish to discuss something with us."

The pegasus nodded and straightened out his vest, glad to finally know that place's official name. “Best not keep ‘em waiting.”

After a brief walk, Clockwork entered Nyumbani, having visited there so often in the past few days that he could likely do it with his eyes closed. Charger followed close behind him, and the duo was somewhat surprised by what they saw. Seven zebras, two of which were Askari and Uchawi, sat opposite the fire pit. The building's interior was unnaturally dark, as if the afternoon sun had no effect on the shadowy atmosphere. The only source of light was a small yet powerful flame in the room’s center. Both ponies found their seats, but could hardly see the figures who had summoned them. Clockwork couldn’t decide if he was glad that he had taken his pistol.

A short time later the rest of the squad arrived. Long Shot garnered a vague leer from the almost toothless mare besides Uchawi. An aged stallion with a pepper-grey mohawk next to Askari locked his one blue eye on Clockwork’s wing, which gave the pegasus chills. The last time he had seen a look like that was when he was fighting Axel. Switcher made his presence known not a minute later, weary of the heat. Nevertheless, Uchawi had a smile on her face and spoke with the same rich quality as she always did.

“I am sorry that my daughter will not be dining with us tonight,” Uchawi apologized. “She’s off visiting an eastern village and offering some words of encouragement and advice to a newly appointed chief.”

“I don’t see any problem with it.” Long Shot levitated a small grilled leaf towards himself before passing one to each of his squadmates. “A good leader must keep up the moral of his or her troops.”

Askari gave a quick nod. “I think a few more introductions are in order. Everyone on the council has already been informed about Meteor Squad, but I think it would only be right to introduce you to our gathered leaders.” Askari motioned to the imposing one-eyed stallion to his right. “This is Sallaq, an old friend and former mentor of mine. He cannot speak the language common to either of our groups well, and Kamalish is hard to translate correctly. However, he knows full well what is going on, and he has taken time to travel away from the coast to be here.”

The stallion looked almost bored as both Long Shot and Switcher extended their hooves in greeting, and after he ignored Charger's offer altogether, Clockwork didn’t bother to even think of welcoming the new arrival. After a snort of disapproval from Uchawi, Sallaq went from actively antagonizing the younger members of the squad to focusing his attention to the Nocturni, which was followed up by the two nodding their heads in general respect.

The oldest mare at the table gave a rasp, which was quickly followed by a scratchy voice that sounded like rough stones being scraped against each other. Her accent was nearly untranslatable as she fully opened her orange eyes to glare at the gathered warriors. “I am the eldest of the Mchanga Kidunia, the lords of the Samara. No names needed, no greetings asked for, I sit here only to see if it is true that ponykind demands our help.” she twisted her lips into a cruel grin, “It seems that they are asking help from every living creature under the burning sun.”

The silence could be cut with a knife, but was quickly ended by a cough that came from the last zebra, who sat next to Uchawi. She was a small, plump mare, small enough that the gathered squad could see she was barely a head higher than Switcher’s natural form. She moved a bit closer to the fire and into its soft orange light and spoke in an equally miniscule voice. Clockwork was reminded of a certain butter-colored pegasus as she spoke.

“I-I am Ndogo. I am not truly a leader, but I am a niece of Uchawi from her husband’s side and as such is most fit to stand beside her today in this meeting. As one of the few dwellers of the deep jungle tribes willing to join in this conflict, I am the head of the local medical groups.” the mare received several nods of approval from everyone gathered in the room, and Charger went a bit farther and made a deep bow that caused the little mare to blush like mad. She quickly scooted away from the fire, and what little spark in the room's atmosphere died right then. In the strangely quiet, almost gloomy fire-lit hut, the fact that Uchawi was still smiling at the squad with enthusiasm put Clockwork on edge. Finally, Askari decided to speak up.

“Speaking of teams and the like,” Askari straightened up, taking a leaf of his own. “We were wondering about your operation a couple nights back.”

“What about it?” Clockwork asked.

“Were there any complications?”

“Aside from my injury, I don’t think anything impeded the mission.”

“Are you sure?”

The pegasus raised an eyebrow as Ndogo rose from her position to pass small cups of clear liquid to him and his squadmates. “Utterly,” responded Charger. ”is something troubling you?”

“We just wanted to make sure that everything was alright. One cannot be too careful in times like these.” Uchawi smiled wider, flashing several of her chipped teeth in the process. She raised her glass. “A toast to the dawn of an age without terror and conflict, hopefully very soon to come.”

Clockwork nodded and raised his cup. The squad followed suit, and they all drank as one. The pegasus licked his lips, for whatever he had just drunk tasted like rancid oranges. Before he could ask what was in his drink, his eyes widened as he heard a foul gagging sound emanate from Switcher-7.

The disguised insect-pony coughed several times before spewing the drink into the fire, causing the fire to soar in height thanks to new, green-speckled fuel. Clockwork watched in horror by the harsh orange light of the fire as Switcher continued to cough, his disguise dropping in short bursts of blue smoke. It wasn’t long before his altered form had faded altogether, his hat making a clatter as it fell to the floor, changing back into a silver helm. His eyes were fearful and wide halfway into the transformation, which was not nearly as smooth as it usually was, with bursts of smoke heralding parts of the soldier's tan fur becoming black and hard. Switcher made a few scant gasps for air before falling sideways onto the floor with a dull thud.

Before Clockwork could react, the gathered leaders, sans Uchawi and Ndogo, rushed around the pit towards Switcher, hidden weapons drawn. They halted their assault when the whole of Meteor Squad, minus the vomiting changeling, drew their own weapons and pointed them at the oncoming zebras. The two groups shouted at one another, but what meaning behind the yelling was lost in the clattering of blades and the thump of hooves. Whatever the hay either group was saying, Clockwork didn’t know. Instead of trying to yell over the group, he fired a round through the ceiling, the echoing boom giving way to a silence the pegasus only half-expected to come about as a result.

“What in the name of Tartarus just happened?!” he yelled.

“You betrayed us, that’s what!” Askari yelled back.

“Care to explain?” Long Shot asked, his voice dripping with venom as his rifle’s barrel almost touching Askari’s skull.

“Your have a fey spy among you! The equivalent of a commander, if that hue of its armor is to be taken at face value!” the nameless elder mare growled, a kukri balanced in one hoof.

Switcher, for his part, buzzed softly as he tried to look as small as possible as he curled into a ball behind Long Shot. His attempt failed as he coughed again, spitting up even more of the clear poison onto the dusty floor.

“I thought you all knew?” Clockwork asked. He honestly thought the Alliance communicated better than this.

“Apparently not,” Sallaq replied in perfect Equish. “Were we to ask?”

“Somebody tell me exactly what you striped bastards gave Switcher or I will slit all of your throats before you can even blink!” Long Shot's pupils narrowed to black slits and bared his fangs. The one-eyed stallion and the old mare both kept their hard glares, but Ndogo stepped farther back behind Uchawi, shaking like a leaf.

“We gave him a potion of little power, nothing that would harm him. Just enough to rid the fey of its disguise.” Uchawi said, still keeping a calm tone even with the chaos around her.

“His name, is Switcher-7! Little my flank, you poisoned him!” Charger exclaimed, adjusting her Grand ever so slightly with a tiny click.

“It is an emotion-eater, no different than the ones that attempted to infiltrate us during the start of this war and in years past. Even if it bears different colors than the swarm that came before, you are still protecting a threat. I dearly hope that you are all under a trance for the very idea that our allies are harboring that thing is a betrayal of which is only spoken in the darkest of tales.”

Clockwork watched in horror as the mare who treated him a night ago effectively sentenced a good friend to death with a smile. The gathered zebras were prepared to throw down their lives right then and there to slay the quivering changeling.

“Stop.”

The zebras hesitated a moment as Uchawi looked towards Clockwork. She raised an eyebrow.

“You heard me. Quit trying to kill Switcher.”

“Kid, what’s stopping us?” Askari asked. He wiggled a huge forehoof for emphasis, a gesture that Clockwork now found dismissive.

“The entire Equestrian population, along with the Bison. If they believe that a single changeling can be treated as an ally, then by Celestia we’ll treat him as a brother. You claim that we are under a trance, but what you probably don’t know is that Princesses Celestia and Luna themselves decided to allow Switcher into allied territory. If they think he’s a friend, then so should you. Unless, of course, your leaders are not willing to go through with this alliance and would rather fend for yourselves as the Consortium slowly burns and poisons your home until there's nothing left but ash and corpses.”

A long, tense silence followed, neither group of warriors moving from their present stance. If somepony had walked in, they could’ve mistaken either side for a group of statues if they ignored their breathing. Suddenly, Uchawi spoke, her smile disappearing as she did, replaced with acute distaste.

“Clockwork is right, let the changeling live.”

Askari gave his mother a questioning glance, and the look on Sallaq’s face gave the impression that he was a few words away from a stroke. Ndogo was still doing her best Switcher impression, and most of Meteor Squad was leaning in the general direction of the zebra with their weapons pointed at their choice of striped equines. Suddenly, the leathery, seemingly nameless mare snapped.

“Betrayers and carrion-lovers the lot of you!” she screamed, her broken voice reaching decibels that would be impressive for a trained singer, "First this, and next we shall all be bowing before some glittering prancing pink pony princess or another! Bah, to seize up at the threat of a far away ruler who has no say in our lands. . . I will not have a single warrior die for the cause of foalish ponies who wish to become involved with the affairs of vultures and jackals! The Mchanga Kidunia fight for the strongest side!”

“Do all sounds pass through your ears as though they were sieves? My mother ordered you to let Switcher live!”

Every occupant in the room turned towards the source of the new voice. Zecora, a frown of both anger and concern on her muzzle, entered Nyumbani through its only door. Before she could speak another word, the unnamed elder yelled again.

"By the spirits Zecora, could you stop with that damned rhyming?! What would your father think?! He would kill himself in shame to hear you continue to honor the most wretched tribe of Zebrica!" At this point, Uchawi’s mask somehow now shared the same look of disgust as her son. Before the elder shaman could unleash another verbal assault, Zecora spoke first.

"Stooping to your level is that last thing I shall do. You all act as though you've tasted the worst of a gypsy's brew!"

“Are you not aware that the squad that you asked to come here brought a fey spy in their midst?! They are nothing but traitors! Why, what would Mfalme think about this foolishness?!“ most of Meteor Squad knew the name of Zecora’s former love, and Askari was sputtering with rage at the elder's insulting words.

Switcher twitched again, this time in reflex.

Zecora, on the other hoof, seemed to ignore the elder mare with grace as she made her way over to Ndogo. After a bit of coaxing, the smaller of the two mares uncurled herself and managed to look into her step sister’s eyes.

“My dear Ndogo, are you alright? You seem to have endured the worst of fright. . .”

Even in the shadows, Clockwork could tell that Ndogo had tears in her eyes from the way they glimmered in the light of the fire. “I just. . . I knew that you told us that the changeling was here, but you never said anything about attacking it. All life is sacred and we must kill only when needed, right? He helped me earlier today to reach some herbs I couldn't get on my own. I haven't seen him do anything wrong at all.”

Zecora looked up from her step-sister and at the four zebras still gathered around Meteor Squad. “For shame, all of you! Is what my step sister said true?!”

The old mare pointed a hoof at Zecora, now enraged in every sense of the word. “So now this. . . pygmy and the heir of the dead places turn against us? To the most dreaded lands of Kuzimu with the lot of you! May your hearts end up in Tirek’s bag!” the eldest mare screamed to nopony in particular as she barged out of the hut, nearly knocking over Charger as she did so.

Sallaq gave long glances at both Askari and Long Shot, but followed close behind the raving mare in a stride, but not before apologising profusely. For his part, Askari hesitantly smiled at Zecora, but quickly attempted to follow Switcher’s example of making himself look as small as possible, which was limited to putting his huge head at an angle that just made him take up more space.

“Hey Ndogo, you going with ‘em?” Askari looked over at his tiny step sister.

“N-no, I’m not. I do not like the way the Mchanga Kidunia or those like them live. They fight monsters day in and day out, and they normally just leave their wounded to die. I don’t want to be associated with them. I’m staying.”

“That’s good to hear. You always were my favorite step sister.” Askari holstered his staff before walking over to Ndogo and placing a comforting hoof on the plump mare’s shoulder, which in turn caused him to place a hoof on most of her back.

Ndogo rolled her eyes. “I’m your only step sister.”

“Exactly.”

“Excuse me for interrupting this tender family moment,” Long Shot called out from behind Clockwork's prosthetic, “but I’d like to figure out why my squadmate was almost killed by our own allies, in a pre-planned attack no less ?”

“My apologies, stallion of grey, zebrakind is rightly wary of fey.”

“Yeah, I figured that before I went into a millenia-long hibernation. What I’d like to know is who gave the order to kill him? The only way they could have given such an order is if they already knew Switcher was a changeling.”

“I know I didn’t, and all my little sisters are too kind to kill something that has no way of defending itself, so I guess. . .” Askari’s eyes widened as he looked towards Uchawi. “Mom, you didn’t-”

“Of course not! I only followed Zecora’s instructions to reveal the fe- Switcher.” Uchawi corrected herself. “I never intended to kill him, just prod him a little. Now, my son, why were you so eager to kill another living creature? I thought I raised you better than that. You know you’re supposed to cripple such invaders so that they can be interrogated and humiliated in front of others.”

Meteor was suddenly reminded that Zebrica was generally more brutal in it’s most touching moments than anything to the northwest toff it, which was mostly everything else.

“Sorry.” Askari scratched the back of his head.

“Askari, I will never understand you, but know this, for your mistake, I forgive you.” Zecora hugged her brother before turning to Meteor Squad. “And to you, dear soldiers, I must apologize, for I never told the elders about Switcher’s allegiance or allies. For a lack of a better rhyme, it never was a topic at the time.” it was then her turn to give a wide, apologetic smile.

“You are forgiven. . . Tribe Queen Zecora,” Switcher finally spoke, coughing mid sentence. “An ally such as I is certainly a unique case. It is understandable that my eradication would be the priority of an uninformed stranger.”

“On that topic, the mare you had the misfortune of meeting was the leader of a small tribe known as the Mchanga Kidunia,” Uchawi interrupted. “They are a vile group, one that kills monsters for sport and leaves behind their wounded as food for the creatures that roam the Samara. We only turn to them in desperation, which I now know we should not have done.” the elder zebra hung her head.

Askari took a stand, however. “They still fight nearly every day against wild beasts and worst, and to have them on the front lines would have been fantastic. When we gather for the yearly tests of skill, Mother,” he looked almost happy that he could correct the shaman, ”they almost always turn out on top in spear-throwing and such. And Sallaq’s from the east coast. Only reason he’s like that is that he was a weapons merchant in camel lands until he came back here to settle down with the Saddle sultans’ gifts and one of his daughters. He probably only went with that old sandy crone to amuse himself with her whining. It's probably possible to patch things up with him.”

“I say good riddance to the both of ‘em,” Long Shot hissed. “An untrained, undisciplined soldier, no matter how good, isn’t worth the risk.”

“Now that I can agree with,” Askari noted, “But a lot of the southern tribes have ties with them, and respect them even more. Hells, Mganga spent a half a year wandering with them, and she thinks that was one of the best training trips she ever took.” both Long Shot and Clockwork winced at that, both for wholly different reasons. “Even worse, until we find another clan brave or crazy enough to go on deep-strike missions or get rid of the Consortium presence here, the Equestrian front is going to be clear of zebras. ”

“How long do you believe this will last?” Charger asked.

“Not short enough,” Askari grimly replied.

“I am sorry, my allies with coats of all hues, unfortunately I must bid thee adieu. I must report these events to my personal scribe, however, I suggest that Switcher reveal himself to the rest of the tribe.”

Switcher, who had finally managed to take in deep breaths again and stand, spoke out, his voice carrying the familiar buzzing undertone of his natural form. “I do not question your methods, Tribe Queen Zecora, however it is highly likely that if I reveal my true form to your tribe, similar events to before will result. To be frank, I would prefer to keep wish all of my organs intact and functioning at peak efficiency.”

“You would be surprised, my little fey, for only the most brutal treat outsiders that way. My tribe’s methods of thought are kind and pure; they will welcome you, I am sure.”

Switcher looked to his nocturni superior. “Commander, I will certainly not question her judgement. What say you?”

Long Shot put a forehoof to his chin as his brow furrowed with thought. After a few seconds, he finally asked “Zecora, are you absolutely certain that your villagers won’t respond with violence? I don’t want to have to kill anything besides Dogs and whatever they’ve teamed up with today.”

Ndogo spoke up. “My step-sister’s word is more than good enough. If any of the villager’s even stare at Switcher the wrong way, I’ll. . . convince them not to.”

“Thank you.” Switcher reached for his helm, quickly setting it back onto his head. Zecora left first, followed closely by the intentionally undisguised changeling. Clockwork waited a moment before leaving as well, intent on finding three certain ponies whom he hadn’t seen for a while.

Much to Clockwork’s surprise, Switcher’s revelation as a changeling was treated far more positively than he’d expected. While some of the older colts and fillies were at first apprehensive of the changeling’s presence, they along with many of the smaller ones quickly warmed up to him. In a display of rare showmanship, Switcher successfully imitated several zebras. Several younger zebras had hugged the changeling’s legs at random moments, and only now did Clockwork discover that changelings could blush. The pegasus smiled as he continued on through the village, determined to find three certain ponies.

After a brief while of searching, the colt found two of the mares he was looking for. Captain Fluttershy was busy telling a circle of young zebras a story about something involving a cockatrice. He didn’t bother listening though; he had to speak to the purple unicorn reading a book a short distance away.

“Captain.” Clockwork saluted Twilight.

Twilight returned the gesture of respectas she looked up from her novel. “I’d refer to you by your rank, but members of High Risk Operation teams don’t technically have those. So, hello, Clockwork.”

The pegasus lowered his forehoof. “The commander does.”

Twilight pondered this, but quickly replied, “All leaders of illicit operations teams are automatically referred to as ‘commander’. Besides, he’s part of Luna’s Royal Guard, so he already had a rank beforehoof. Hmm, I wonder how they will integrate the existing royal guards into the army? The princess has not said anything about it, and Shining hasn’t spoken to me since last week. . .”

Clockwork waved a forehoof in front of his face as he watched the unicorn’s mind go off the beaten path. “We’re getting off-track. I need to know why I haven’t seen you, Fluttershy, or Applebloom in the past few days.”

She shrugged, and quickly glanced at her novel. “Same reason as you. We’ve been busy trying to help the village recover in whatever way possible. It’s an unfortunate coincidence that we haven’t seen each other in that time. We just have different duties.”

“What’ve you been doing?” Clockwork could care less that he sounded forceful, he needed briefing, by Celestia!

Twilight glanced around her immediate area. “Cataloging the jungle’s flora and fauna, sending reports back to the sisters at regular intervals, and helping with reconstruction.”

“Might I suggest something, Captain?”

“I’m listening.”

“I think it might be a good idea to send a letter to the sisters about Switcher. I don’t want another incident like the one with the leaders of the Mchanga Kidunia.”

“Already sent. The sisters are sending messages to each allied leader that Meteor Squad has a changeling with them, and to remind their own leaders that, yes, he is quite friendly. Of course, it would really be up to Switcher to do his part in explaining himself.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Twilight glanced back at her book. “Don’t mention it, anything else?”

“Why haven’t I seen Lieutenant Fluttershy recently? Is she as busy as you?” Clockwork motioned towards the pegasus mare, who was blushing slightly as a zebra filly complemented her mane.

“She’s been keeping the foals occupied with Penyelamat and treating the wounded.”

Clockwork thought for a moment. “I haven’t seen many injured zebras recently.”

Twilight looked back at her novel with a smug, almost proud look on her face. “Exactly.”

Clockwork had the urge to smile, but fought against it. “And Apple Bloom?”

“Chatting it up with Zecora, fixing structures and building new ones. I’ve heard that you’re out of the fight until the day after tomorrow; I think she could use your expertise.”

Clockwork nodded. “Understood, where is she?”

“Over by the medical supplies depot a little ways south of where we’re standing. Grey roof with yellow stripes on the outer walls, can’t miss it.”

“Yes ma’am.” the pegasus turned around and started towards his destination. Time metaphorically flew by, and before he could even see his fellow soldier, she called out to him.

“Hey, Clocky! Good tah see ya out n’ about!” Apple Bloom poked her head out from where she was working on the roof and waved at the pegasus below. Her brass horseshoes glistened in the setting sunlight, causing Clockwork to wince slightly as he was blinded by the shine.

“Thanks!” the pegasus called back. “Twilight said you wanted some help?”

“Sure do! Ah left a bag o’ nails in the room below me, could you get ‘em?”

“Sure.” Clockwork trotted inside and was greeted by the pungent smell of various herbs and medicinal concoctions. He was greeted by an even more surprising sight; Mganga, several of her bandages now gone, was looking over a scrap of parchment laid out on a small wooden table with thoughtful determination. “Umm. . . Mganga? Should you be out of bed?”

Clockwork’s sudden greeting caused the zebra mare to jump an impressive height. She spun around midair in a move that would make the Wonderbolts pause for thought, and drew her new staff from a small holster on her left shoulder. The weapon extended to full length in less than a second, and the gem between the tip’s twin blades glowed with a blue-white light. Clockwork took a few steps back, for the deadly gem was a scant few inches from his right eye. “Whoa whoa whoa, did you lose your memory?”

“Ah, it is you, Chuma Mrengo. I apologize, when the dogs captured me I began to doubt my skills. I’ve been on edge for a while now.” the zebra holstered her staff. “I see that your recovery is going well?”

“As is yours.” Clockwork nodded. “Are you back in the fight?”

“Not yet,” Mganga replied. “Though I am fit for combat, my mother believes that I require additional time to heal. How long do you have?”

“The day after tomorrow is when I head back into the fray.”

“You must keep your skills sharp at all times, lest a foe attempt to slay you at your weakest. Constant vigilance is the only way to survive a conflict, for the slightest flaw could mean your end.”

Clockwork gave a nervous laugh. “Noted. Apple Bloom said there were some nails in here?”

“Give me a moment.” Mganga looked around her immediate vicinity before taking a small bag and throwing it towards Clockwork. As the stallion turned to leave, he heard Mganga speak again.

“That wing of yours is impressive. Perhaps you could tell the village as a whole how you brought about its creation? I am sure we would enjoy the tale.”

“I’ll think it over.” Clockwork left the hut and quickly flew onto the roof, half to spread his wings and half to get away from the zebra inside. “Got the nails.”

“Thank ya kindly.” Apple Bloom took the small bag and dumped its contents onto the thatched surface before her. She quickly started pounding them into the hut’s roof with her horseshoes.

“Erm. . . if you have the time and resources, you may want to space them out more evenly. Two rows per strip of thatch and the roof should be more stable, less likelihood of collapse during stressful times.”

Apple Bloom gave the pegasus before her a look of interest before nodding. “Yah know what? I may just have enough stuff to pull that off. Anything else?”

“Would you be offended if I made a few more suggestions?”

“‘Course not.”

Clockwork opened his mouth to begin the rant to end all rants. Applebloom cursed her lack of foresight, for by the time Clockwork was finished, she could have knocked down the hut and built another. Deciding to distract him, she told him of a local gathering that was supposed to happen later, and that it was in the center of the village, so Clockwork should probably head there now.

By the time Clockwork had been tricked by the youngest member of the apple family to leave her be, the sun had set and the fire pit in the center of Mji Mkuu had been lit. Several zebras had already gathered by the time Meteor Squad and their superiors found their seats. The night went by at a steady pace, songs were sung, tales were told, even Clockwork had been encouraged to stand up and show off his wing. Through it all, several things continued to hold his attention; Mganga had dozed off on Long Shot’s shoulder several times, and even after reawakening, she never moved and Clockwork’s own questioning glance at his commander was met with a wink. Another was Switcher, who even now hadn’t changed back from his natural form, gathered near the younger members of the tribe and was actually smiling as he performed small feats of magic and transformation to entertain the youngest tribe members. As for other highlights, Charger had the most awkward dance Clockwork had ever seen with a mildly brave young stallion while the pegasus nearby glared at him. The last thing though, was Samibe. The zebra whose white stripes were instead blue and whom Clockwork realised was probably his age, perhaps younger, seemed completely disinterested in the cheer and festivities that were going on. In fact, he actually seemed sorrowful and, for a lack of a better word, brooding. As the night began to wind down, Clockwork found a spot next to the zebra and leaned a bit in his direction.

“Something wrong?”

“You could say that.” Samibe responded in a near deadpan tone of voice.

“Mind if I ask why?”

The zebra sighed. “It’s just that. . . this war’s only been going on for a short amount of time, and yet so much has already changed.”

“Care to explain?”

“I never wanted to be a soldier; I’d much prefer to go back to making pottery.”

“You’re a craftspony?”

“Apprentice to one. Until this war started.”

“What happened?”

“Look around.” Samibe gestured to the gathered crowd. “See any other zebras with dyed stripes?”

“No.”

“Exactly. Colored stripes are the symbol of what used to be my clan, the Ufinyanzi. We were the best crafts makers in all of Zebrica. We were close to a beautiful lake and a supply of the purest clay within two day’s travel from the biggest ports. Then one day the village proper was attacked. Now I’m here.”

“Did anypony else make it?”

“I doubt it; we were the first village to get hit. I’m probably all that’s left. Fact is, no one believed the war was as bad as it is until a couple other villages got hit hours after mine.”

Despite the heat of the bonfire, Clockwork felt a harsh chill run up his spine as he remembered the report delivered to Szary. “How’d you survive?”

“I was out gathering clay for my master when I saw the nearby river run yellowish-green. I followed it back to the village and I. . . I couldn’t even see it through the green fog, but I could hear the choking, coughing, and breathless cries for help. . .”

To say Clockwork was shocked would’ve been an understatement. “I’m. . . sorry.” he winced at his own words.

“Don’t be,” Samibe grinned ever so slightly “it wasn’t your fault.”

“Something similar happened back in Equestria.”

“Really?” Samibe appeared genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, the Griffon Empire attacked my home and Canterlot simultaneously, though a lot of it was focused on where I lived. We were getting torn apart, I couldn’t do anything, and if it wasn’t for that grey stallion over there,” Clockwork pointed at Long Shot, “I’d probably be dead.”

“You are talking about the invasion of Ponyville?”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you know about it?”

Samibe frowned. “Long before you landed, for news travels quickly in these lands. But you are mistaken in comparing your loss. Your home was attacked, defended, retaken. My home was gassed like an exterminator trying to rid it of insectoid pests. I doubt I will ever see it again.”

Clockwork sighed. “If thats true, what do you plan on doing after all. . . this?”

Samibe acquired a grim smile. “The richest merchant boats often make trips to camel lands, and I know for a fact that the sheik of Istanbull personally values my clan's crafts. If I go and tell my tale, I would never have to look at a speck of Zebrican soil ever again.”

Clockwork was saddened by someone as young, if not younger, than him talking about simply cutting all ties with his homeland. Against his own ideals, though, he nodded at the unfortunate colt’s words.

“I must thank you for talking to me, Chuma Mrengo. It has been quite some time since I was able to discuss the loss of my home.” Samibe stood and helped Clockwork to his hooves, and both took note of the tiring villagers and the rapidly setting sun. “The gathering is ending. I suggest we rest now.”

Still surprised at how fast time went by, Clockwork responded with a tired yawn, “Good idea. It was nice finally getting to know you, Samibe. Oh, and thanks for patching me up after I first got here.”

“It was the least I could do.”

The colts went their separate ways, and Clockwork made it back to his hut without incident. He quickly stripped off his gear before falling muzzle-first into his bed. He was asleep before he hit the mattress, and his last thought was of how Equestria was the creator of a substance that wiped whole villages off the face of the map.

The sun was up, the village was alive with movement, and Clockwork was out again. To the pegasus, the second day of his recovery couldn’t pass quickly enough. He had already helped Applebloom repair several more damaged huts, talked a bit more with Samibe, and had wished Mganga good luck as she headed off with Meteor Squad on their latest mission. He had even managed to scrape together a few contraptions from the leftover supplies that the Squad had brought with them, but the midday Zebrican sun continued to sluggishly make its way across the sky. He had just put the finishing touches on another steam engine when he heard the last voice he would’ve expected to that day.

“Hello pony, need help?”

The pegasus looked over his shoulder to find Diesel, the dog from a few nights ago, in crude chains with a weight at one end but with a toothy smile on his face.

“Hey Diesel, what’re you doing out?”

“Zebras said I free to roam around village after building a hut. Finished questioning me last night. Gave as much information as possible, and zebras let me go.”

“What about Sod and Grumbler?”

The dog shrugged, unconcerned. “They still sleeping, lazy pups. Zebras gave us herbs to sleep, but I didn’t swallow.” he raised a shaggy paw to scratch his single ear. “Err, does pony need help?”

“Machine-wise, no. However, I did want to ask you about something.” Clockwork sat down, as did Diesel. “How’s your doggish?”

He raised a fluffy eyebrow. “Fluent. First degree in linguistics, no need to learn about machinery, all dogs good at it. Like asking seapony to swim.”

“Do you think you could teach me how to speak and write it? It’s a mystery in Equestria.”

“Impossible.”

“I could learn it quickly, I think.” Clockwork knew that, at the very least, was supported by what others told him

“No; it impossible because ponies don’t have right organs to make dog sounds. If pony try and speak it, they end up with broken voice box and PTSD. Testing long ago, probably in pony archives as well as dog. Only other species that can do it are dragons and wolves; dragons are rude and wolves mostly dead.”

“That’s. . . unfortunate.” Clockwork hung his head.

“I still teach language. You learn what dogs say, even though you can’t speak it.”

Clockwork nodded curtly. “Thanks.”

Diesel flashed a toothy grin. “Anything to get back at Consortium.”

The pegasus continued to wander around Mji Mkuu, reviewing what he had learned in his head. As he did though, he failed to notice the lanky, striped body of Penyelamat, walking head-first into her with a soft wump.

“EEEP!” Penyelamat jumped a good distance off of the ground, sprung, really, before realizing who had bumped into her side. After a few moments, she let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, you are Clockwork, the pegasus. I’m am deeply sorry about that, for I did not hear you. I truly am sorr-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clockwork rubbed the back of his neck, blushing lightly. “it was my fault, I should be the one apologizing.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. Did you need something?” she asked quickly, looking at him carefully to see if he had any wounds or marks.

“Would it be alright if I asked you a few things?” he asked.

“Of course!” Penyelamat smiled as she led Clockwork to a small, rather lush patch of grass suitable for sitting on. “You must have many questions, I understand, being from Equestria.”

He bit his lip. “Forgive me if I sound too impersonal or anything, but I wanted to know, what exactly. . . are you?”

Much to Clockwork’s surprise, the lanky mare did not cry or run off. Instead, she giggled, ears flicking rapidly.

“Oh, okay, that is understandable, I suppose, if you didn’t know before.” Penyelamat leaned a bit closer to the colt in front of her which allowed him to get a good look at her long, almost royal legs, her smooth, delicate fur that looked oh so- Clockwork cursed at himself in his head. How could he give a mare he just met a look over?!

“Tell me, Clockwork, do you know what a Quagga is?”

“Can’t say that I do.” Clockwork vowed to track down a book about the world’s many species when he crossed back into Equestria, and do something with Charger. Possibly involving toying with sensitive machinery. That’s what good friends did together when nopony else was around, right? Work on weapons of war!

“Well, that is what I am,” she replied, raising a slim hoof. “We are few, but we are a proud race. The Quagga are kin of all the equines in Zebrica, and a majority of my kind live on the grassy plains. I guess you could compare us to your winged and horned royalty. We don’t do much, but we are seen as important. It’s kind of nice, really.”

Clockwork’s mind stopped momentarily. Great, he was eyeballing the zebra version of a princess! Oh, sweet Celestia, how his mind hurt. Clockwork’s brain suddenly kicked itself back into working order. “So, do Quagga have any special traits or anything?”

She let out a delicate laugh. “We are farmers, medicine mares, mothers, fathers, and a great many other peaceful things. We can and will fight when necessary, but we try our hardest not to. When the clans wish for our help, they ask for it. We are small, less than a few score, but we produce the finest sages and shamans in the lands, and our lifespan is such that we can master many trades.”

Clockwork took that in. So, not truly all-powerful, but skilled and wise in the ways of nature. He could see why they were seen as so powerful, but something was missing. “I see. So if your kind live on the plains, what’re you doing here?”

Penyelamat giggled. “To be honest, I do not know. Zecora tells me that she found me whilst traveling through the jungle to gather some herbs one day. At first, she thought I was an Okapi, but they’ve been extinct for spirits know how long. I believe that in Equestrian terms I am her adopted daughter, and heir apparent.”

“Huh,” he brilliantly said. So, almost a princess.

She looked at his expression and giggled. Again. “It’s not as impressive as it sounds, I hope you do not get the wrong image. But what about you?”

Clockwork blinked. “I’m an engineer.”

“Oh.” she said mildly, and it took a few moments for him to realize she didn’t know what that meant.

“I work on machines,” he stated.

“Like your wing?” she inquired, sparing a glance at his left appendage.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Did it get. . . cut off?” she asked reluctantly, waving a hoof in it’s general direction, face fearful. “Or bitten off?”

Clockwork shook his head. “No, no, I was born with only one wing.”

She took a few seconds to process what he was saying, and when she realized what he meant, she bit her lip and averted her gaze. “Oh, I am sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I can tell you all about it later if you want." Clockwork decided that asking about half the races he knew existed in Zebrica was something best left for his own studies. Finally, he came up with a reasonable question. “If you don't mind me asking, what exactly does ‘Slaves of the Burning Sun’ mean?”

Suddenly, a hard look passed over her face, and for a moment Clockwork swore he could feel some amount of magic gathering around in the air.

“Who said that?” she asked sharply, voice even but tainted with barely-hidden anger, “Who said that to you?”

“The. . . desert zebra leader and Mganga,” he half-stuttered in mild shock. “What does it mean?”

“Zecora’s sister and the emissary of the Mchanga Kidunia said those exact words to you?”

“Yes,” he half-breathed, now worrying for his own sake. “It doesn’t sound good, but what does it mean? Is it an insult?”

Penyelamat’s mildly indignant expression faded into a almost embarrassed one.

“It is the worst possible thing a zebra could call a pony, I would think. It means that you are slaves to Celestia.”

Clockwork blinked. “Why would they think we're slaves? Ponies have never been- the princesses are the pure embodiment of good! Celestia never kept slaves!”

Penyelamat coughed. “That may be true, but. . ." a sudden flash of acute embarrassment came over her face. “A long time ago, your princesses called for a general meeting for all the peoples of the worlds, and asked them to acknowledge them as the movers of the sun and moon.”

Clockwork nodded, signaling for her to go on.

“The reaction from some zebras, that ponies lived and died under what they saw as the living incarnation of the heartless ball of fire above, was not a good one. They believed that ponies had it in there power to control the sun and moon, like how all the unicorns did before the arrival of your princesses, but because they submitted to what they could only see as a immortal tyrant, they were little better than slaves.”

“That’s horrible!”

“It is also true,” Penyelamat said slowly, “Or at the very least, that is how many zebras see it. Personally, I see it as rubbish, but it is just a fact. Not many zebras like Celestia because, according to legend, she was the one who then scorched the southern plains into desert with her magic.”

Clockwork was stunned. “But that. . . can’t be true, could it?”

To his dismay, she just shrugged.

“The desert used to be fertile, a long time ago. There are ruins of cities and such, but I couldn’t say if your Princess did it. Admittedly, she is a rather intimidating figure, is she not? Bone white fur, a horn like a spear, and with wide wings like a Roc. How could you say no to a mare who pushes back nature itself with her magic and can cause the sun to rise and fall at will? She’s more like a spirit than anything else, and one that isn’t very nice at that. If she was truly benevolent, wouldn’t the sun be slightly dimmer and the moon brighter? With titles like the Dawnstar and She Of The Burning Sun, how else is one supposed to see her as besides a creature that burns what is left under her flaming gaze and brings thirst to those who need sustenance the most?”

“Celestia is like a watchful mother over every pony, though. I'ce met her, even. She's definitely scary when upset, but that’s something she shares with everyone.”

“Well, to be fair, she also banished her sister to the moon.”

“Luna was corrupted by an outside force, she was imprisoned as a last resort,” Clockwork said monotonously.

“Yet most ponies still fear her, correct?”

“No! She’s just. . . respected in a different way then Celestia is,” he replied weakly.

“You do know that most outside Equestria prefered Luna over Celestia?”

Clockwork didn’t say anything, fearing that he would say something that would just dig him deeper.

“For instance, Luna traveled a lot more, and unlike Equestria, the night was seen as more peaceful than the day. In Zebrica, it is a time of rest. I even believe that in Saddle Arabia, there was a general celebration when the sun did not rise the day when Nightmare Moon returned. Surely you must have wondered why they sent diplomats the year after Luna returned to her station?”

“I. . . never thought about it like that. Could we please talk about something else, though? This is getting a little heavy.”

Nodding, a bashful look overtook Penyelamat's face. “Of course!”

After a bit more conversation and a warm goodbye, Clockwork decided to head back to his personal hut with his pride intact. Perhaps a nap would help the day go by quicker?

The stallion made it back to his hut and, upon discovery that he wasn’t tired in the slightest, decided to go through his materials and make sure that everything was in order.

Condition of both shotgun and pistol ammunition optimum. Survival kit currently unused, thank Celestia. Weapon maintenance kit still right where I left it. Novels seem fine, might read one late-

Clockwork’s thoughts fell silent as his eyes came to rest on an unopened letter. He took it from the shelf that he had set it on and sat on his bed as he opened it. he sat on as well. He carefully removed the package's single leaf of parchment and was greeted by the scent of dust. The pegasus smiled as he read what was inscribed.

Clockwork,

We're doing fine. Stalliongrad's safe, and from what I hear, Ponyville’s almost back to normal.

Keep up the good work, son. We're proud of you.

-Mom & Dad

Before Clockwork could put the letter in a safe place, none other than Charger bursted into his makeshift abode. She was covered in bloody scrapes from head to hoof, but her eyes still shone with that familiar fire he had grown to love. The pegasus stallion felt a chill run through him as he saw something else in the mare’s eyes: fear.

“Clockwork, I hope you can tolerate what injuries you still have, because we need you, now.”