Clockwork Alicorn: Steam and Steel
CLOCKWORK ALICORN: STEAM AND STEEL.
The Adventures of Ship’s Boy Thunder Clash and Ship’s Maid Sterling Slopes.
I - The First Chapter
Written by: Dr. Keiser Tangus von Nohugh and Silvertongue Overlord.
Canterlot. Grand spires of white marble and gold tipped towers dominate the lower streets of the city, bustling with activity. These ponies count on skyships to trade, ever since the trains were shut down due to their limited fuel source. The ships, by contrast, rely on everything from coal, petrol and gas, to wind, sunlight, and magic. With experienced captains to guide both them and their crews to safe skies, the airships are the world’s number one asset.
The Verdant Shore drifted softly through the mist thrown off by Canterlot's waterfalls, a grand brig painted with the colors of Celestia herself. Rainbow sails flowed elegantly on tall, chestnut colored masts, flapping in perfect rhythm with the pounding hearts of the crew. The white hull blended perfectly with the soft cloud cover that surrounded her, even this low in the atmosphere. Further along the docks, two young colts hurried through the bustling streets of the outer city, making a beeline for the Verdant Shore.
“C’mon, Clash! We’re gonna get whupped if the captain finds out we’re late!” A pony in a wheelchair shouted to his companion, who was out of breath. She magicked her wheels to roll faster, quietly outrunning the pegasus.
“Shut up! It’s not my fault you wanna sleep in all the time!” gasped the pegasus.
A mare with a mane of smoke gray and a body of earth brown held Sterling Slopes in the air, guarding her from certain death from the plunge of thousands of yards. Her maple leaf cutie mark flickered in the gust kicked up by her wings.
“You two are late,” She said with reprimand in her voice. “Again.” She set Slopes down on the deck gently, where she cautiously levitated himself back into her wheelchair, her face flushed red with embarrassment and fright. Autumn Breeze, the captain of the Verdant Shore, shook her head at the two ponies. She was slightly overweight, a side effect of the luxuriant life of a trade captain. She was a renowned as a kind mare, and wanted only the best for her crew and her ship. It spoke volumes about her life, and her personality.
But at that instant, she was more than a little angry at the lax, and frankly dangerous behavior of the two. “This old ship is getting a mite dusty. Would you two be so kind as to swab the deck?” She spoke as if it was a question. Both Clash and Slopes knew it was an order, and followed through immediately, hiding their shamed faces with polite bows.
“Yes’m,” they chorused.
------
Sterling Slopes had always felt appreciated aboard the Verdant Shore. She could tell by the way the other ponies acknowledged her, treating her no differently than the rest of the unicorns aboard, despite his handicap. She felt almost more at home here than she had felt even living with her own family.
“This job blows.” Clash interrupted Slopes’ train of thought. She stared at her pegasus friend, waiting for him to finish the simplest job they could possibly have been assigned.
“I’m not complaining. She could’a had us in the Rat’s nest for the night’s watch.” Slopes said in a small voice, finishing her last wipedown of the floor. Having the ability to fly, Clash had opted to clean the tarp that covered most of the lower deck, but he was neither flying nor working. Sloped gave a long-suffering sigh and gestured to her friend’s filthy jurisdiction.
“C’mon, Clash, faster we finish this, faster we can go do something else.” Slopes announced, tossing her rag into a bucket. Clash groaned, flying back up to the ceiling and wiping the spots of food tossed up by the birds. In hardly any time at all, he was done, and he threw the rag forcefully into the bucket. Slopes was reading a book while she waited.
“What’cha reading, Slip?” He hovered by her side. Slopes turned and smiled, a gleam in her eye.
“The Advanced Properties of Unicorn Magic and Race-Specific Trait Splicing! It’s very well written, wanna see?” She offered the book to Clash.
Clash put the book on the floor and read a page, carefully maintaining a look of interest. He read aloud.
“According to Archmage Twilight Sparkle (CD 1846), the adversity of pony magic is crucial to understand in order to integrate other spells natural to the other, non-unicorn races. An example of this would be the “Cloudwalking” spell, which, although naturally inherent to pegasi, could be cast by a unicorn who understands to proper spell... ‘matrickes’?... ugh...” Clash stopped and looked up.
“I don’t get any of this, Slip. Can you help?” He asked with a sheepish grin.
Slopes swiped the book up with her magic, a dull ochre field surrounding the thick leather tome, and read to Clash.
“...Could be cast by a unicorn who understands the proper spell matrices, in coordination with the ethereal nature of the medium and the integral interweaving of cross-species Inherent Magic coordination. The casting of such spells may take on a corporeal embodiment; to use the prior example, wings. Some such cases have been recorded as average pegasus wings, occasionally upon the hooves, dragon wings, or even butterfly wings. The manifestation of the spell is often a direct result of the caster’s subconscious lateral mana manipulations, and can cause certain mana flux effects, side spells including but not limited to glamours, fortune hexes, aural somnolence... aaaand now I’ve lost you.”
Clash looked lost, and his eyes were glazed. “Huh? Oh, no! I heard that!”
The unicorn chuckled. “Sure you did. You’re lucky your career doesn’t rely on this stuff to get by.”
“Spells can be put in stuff and spread around by unicorns. As long as a unicorn understands what she needs to do, she can do it. Right?” he hazarded, tapping his hooves together.
“Well you’ve gotten the basics of it, yeah. Though on a deeper level, it means that in order to cast a racially transcendent spell, the caster would need to have a seriously in-depth knowledge of the races involved.”
“Alright...” Clash turned away. “Sounds... complicated...” Clash turned back to Slopes, curiosity written across his muzzle.
“Can you do a cloudwalking spell?” He asked, showing his hooves to Slopes.
The unicorn raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I’ve never tried that particular school of magic, and if i get it wrong you could end up having one hoof that sticks to the floor and another that attracts metal... and second, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of already a pegasus. You can walk on clouds at any time you want, per your race’s ability.”
“I mean for you. Can you make your wheels ride on clouds?”
Slopes blinked. “Huh... you know, I’m not sure. I mean, it should be possible, since the weather factories use metal instruments and all, but... I’ll have to get back to you on that one. But it’s definitely worth looking into.” Her eyes lit up like they did whenever she had an idea to work out, and the means to put a plan into action.
“Cool! See, I had an idea...” The door to the cabin smashing into the wall interrupted his thought. The chestnut brown mare strode in and stopped next to Slopes, inspecting the floor and walls.
“Good job cleaning up down here, you two. Now take the bucket and go swab the upper deck.” she said, striding out of the room as abruptly as she walked in.
Celestia’s sun shone brightly on the open deck. The duo were busily wiping the deck with half-rotted mops. The crew referred to them as “Punishment Sticks”, because, as most of the crew were pegasi, they had to touch the splintering, moldy wood. More often than not, they’d have to replace the mops with their rags. Slopes carefully wiped backwards, hitting each spot of filth that needed to be cleaned. Clash spat out the splinters of the old mop. “Finally. You done yet?” He looked at Slopes, who was carefully setting the rag and bucket down.
Slopes nodded, rolling over to Clash. “How much do you want to bet we’re going to swab the barracks next?”
“Five bits.”
“You have a deal.” She rolled to the stairs, opening the door. An older, gruff looking pony came out and bumped into Slopes, pushing past Clash and snorting. “Watch yerself, Ponnlets. I ain’t got the patience for ya right here.” he grumbled as he passed, and the two nearly jumped as his normally pink eyes flashed bright green.
Clash looked at Slopes, double-taking at the older yellow pony.
“Did you just see that?” They said simultaneously.
“See what? The casino ship?” Captain Autumn Breeze said, suddenly appearing behind the two. Clash spun around, while Slopes turned calmly to look. Off the starboard bow, there was a monolith of a ship, totally dwarfing the brig. It was massive, big enough to house a small town, which was exactly what it did.
“I’ve always wanted to see what happened on one of those,” Slopes said. Clash looked again at the massive crate-shaped casino. It slowly pushed through the clouds, a monolith of pink and brass. He noticed several black shapes flying fast from the arbitrary “Front” of the ship almost at the same time as he heard “Hooves to deck! We got Boarders!” from the captain.
The “boarders” turned out to be a demonstration from the Casino, gratis as ordered by its captain, an admittedly terrifying clown-pony named Chucklehead. Around fifty ponies dressed to the teeth in fancy suits and hats landed with great ostentation, to much applause from the crew of the Verdant Shore. Those dressed in the flashiest clothes introduced themselves as the Party Professionals, handing out vouchers and various cheap gifts.
Autumn allowed them to throw the party, calling up all of the crew from the below decks and retiring with Captain Chucklehead to the foredeck.
The casino ship ponies turned out to be from the Happy Ending, and voiced in raucous song that they were there to bring the crew of the Verdant Shores a taste of Pinkie Pie’s hospitality. The whole crew practically split the deck with their hooves stomping in approval, such was the reception of the visitor’s performance. After the initial song and dance routine, the casino ponies dispersed, mingling with the crew as a band struck up a jaunty tune and half a dozen banquet tables were levitated aboard.
Slopes and Clash each found a comfortable spot between the hay sandwiches and the oat bars.
“Well I sort of wanted to go in... but this is still pretty good. You want to keep at this? Or you gonna give up?” She said, slapping a card down. It showed a Timber Wolf which was set on fire by a chainmail clad pony warrior. “Get rid of... that Minotaur Demolition Team there.” He flicked a hoof at the card and looked back at his set.
A voice rang out behind Slopes. “Ooh, is that Hexes and Hydras? I didn’t know airship ponies played! Mind if I watch?”
A gold and sapphire filly peered interestedly over their shoulders, scanning the playing field covered in assorted, artistic cards depicting different monsters, both realistic and fantasy.
“Sure, miss.” Clash spread his hoof to indicate the chair next to Slopes, which the filly quickly occupied. Slopes gripped the slain card in crimson magic, carelessly flinging it to the pile next to the deck.
“He’s using a dragon and magma beast deck, and I’m using Phoenix and The Horsen,” He explained. “Most of his cards are warriors and ethereals, which is tearing my frontline up. But...” He placed two cards down with a smug smile, flipping the recently destroyed card back into the field. “He’s left his flanks open to my Necromancers.”
Clash gripped his face as hard as he could, groaning. Once he’d gained his composure, he placed his whole set on the field, six cards. “Try to flank this, Slip.” He moved his cards to their respective positions.
The unicorn bit his lip as she tossed several of her cards into a pile. “Well... That’s pretty good strategy. You’re definitely improving... uh... only... one thing.” She slapped down a single card, deep within her opponent’s territory. “My Plague Wraith’s spawn ability. Sorry, but I think this is over.”
“Daaaaaamn!” He rose into the air, standing on his hind legs, head up to the clouds. He picked ten bits out of his saddlebags and pushed them to Slopes. “Good game, Slip.”
The new pony put a hoof on Clash’s, forestalling his motion. “Wait... Do you have any Insurgents?”
“I don’t have a card left in my hoof, miss.”
“On the field, dummy.”
“Yeah, but...”
“Well, you can shift the viewpoint, can’t you?”
“Sure. I’ll... do that.” He sat back down, keeping his bits next to him.
“Now draw a card for the turn, and hope it’s a good one.”
“Alright. Charcoal Wyvern. Any good, miss?”
She clapped her hooves gleefully. “Perfect! His ability lets you amplify that Red Dragon, right?”
“I’m... not really good at this game, miss. Does it?”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’re doing great. Yes, it does, since you have that Draconic Resonance card active. Now move the Red Dragon here, and the wyvern here...”
Slopes watched, dumbfounded, as her cards were outmaneuvered and overpowered. “I... I don’t believe it. There’s absolutely nothing left for me to do... I guess you win, Clash.” She grinned up at them both. “That was fantastic! I’ve never seen anypony recover from a beating like that!”
“Bits.” Clash motioned his hoof and grinned.
“Oh. Uh. Right.” She hoofed over the money, shaking his head and smiling. “Almost worth the cash to finally lose to you, even if you did have help.”
“I guess?” He hooved five bits to the nameless filly. “Here. Thanks for the help, miss.”
She smiled brightly. “No problem. I’m Melody, by the way. And I guess that makes you two Clash, and... Slips? Is that right?”
“She’s Sterling Slopes, the smartest pony in the skies, I’m Thunder Clash, and you’re very beautiful, miss Melody.” He said, posing midair with a hoof out.
The gold earth pony raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’re a deckhand, and I’m interesting, right? I have met airshippers before, you know,” she said with a cheeky grin.
“Yes, ma’am. We are deckhands of the glorious Verdant Shore, proud to serve our Captain Autumn Breeze.” He put a hoof to his chest and landed.
“I’ve heard better lines,” she said, appearing to mull it over, “But not many of them that sincere, so I guess you get points for that.” She chuckled, scooting closer to Slopes’ wheelchair. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll chum up with the one who I know is too helpless to try anything before I make nice to the other kids. Know what I mean?”
Sterling Slopes squawked in protest. “Hey, who’s helpless? I am perfectly capable of assaulting another pony, thank you very much! I just... you know, choose not to.”
Clash just sputtered, however, his chest deflating. “...huh?”
Melody flipped her mane, rubbing Slope’s head much harder than necessary with a hoof. “Oh, don’t take it so hard. I’m only teasing you both.” She stood up suddenly, putting her hooves on the back of Slope’s chair, ready to push. “So! Am I getting a tour of the ship, captain?” She asked, winking at Clash.
“I’m not the captain, milady. I don’t have the authority to give a tour.” He said, folding his forehooves across his chest.
The filly rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a pony who was too boring to bend a few rules in order to escort a beautiful mare around the ship he crewed.”
Clash simply pointed a hoof to Slopes.
“I’m boring,” supplied the unicorn. “Boring is safe.”
“Alright, one who had a choice in the matter,” chuckled Melody. Clash shrugged.
“We don’t have a choice in the matter.” He sighed, pausing for a second. “I certainly wouldn’t want to see you get flogged for trespassing, milady.”
“Of course not,” She said, tossing her mane playfully. “Which is why we’re going to be very careful, right?”
“Uh...” Clash tapped his hooves together. “I can’t. Truly, terribly sorry.”
“Look, I had to beg Captain Chucklehead to let me come along with the entertainment, and he only let me because I’m so very charming and wonderful and good at looking sad. Now, shall we?” she said, completely ignoring him and already halfway down the metal steps to the belowdecks, the unfortunate Sterling Slopes bumping down in front of her.
“Cla-a-ash...” She called apprehensively, nervously scanning the interior of the ship for signs of a superior officer.
He put his hooves to his head. “Wait. I’ll lead. Since you’re so insistent...” He pried open the door and looked around. “Just a quick tour, agreed?”
Melody fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Why thank you, Clash. That’s all I was asking for, anyway.”
“Nothin’ but trouble...” he said under his breath.
“All the pretty ones are, I’m told.” muttered Slopes in reply.
Melody chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. So, where’s the navigation room? I want to see the star charts! I love that sort of thing. Captain Chucklehead even lets me help out the Engineers with navigation sometimes, so-”
She was cut off by Clash. “Through here. Please do try to keep it down,” He said, leading the two through the narrow hallway. They passed by a few open doors, each one a pause in their tour to check for ranking officers. It covered mostly everypony on the ship. Once, a pony walked by with a well dressed mare to one of the personal quarters, and Clash almost had to physically restrain himself from running back on deck and telling Melody the tour was over. Slopes, on the other hand, went along quietly, nary a word in protest. When they did finally manage to get to the charthouse, the gold earth pony practically stampeded in, forgetting her attempts at stealth.
“Oh my gosh! This equipment is top of the line!” she said excitedly, flipping through maps and carefully handling various pieces of equipment.
Clash watched her practically drooling over an enchanted sextant, and had to ward off her overenthusiastic gesticulations. “Quiet down, Melody, there’s enough room to swing a cat in here.” he said, wincing and putting a hoof down on the pile maps. He sighed.
“I don’t think she’ll flog us, Clash. She’ll probably just make us do a fortnight of watch in the crow’s nest,” Slopes said in a rather calm voice. She looked collected enough to roll her chair over and talk reason to Melody, who sat and watched with a star chart in her hooves.
“Melody, we-” All of her confidence was breath in the wind as she heard a pair of ponies out in the hallway, approaching quickly.
“Hide!” she hissed. The young ponies dove into a supply closet, Melody rolling Slopes behind Clash.
The two worst possible ponies to enter, indeed, did. Autumn Breeze stepped in first, followed by a bright pink dyed pony with clown make-up ostensibly tattooed to his bare face. Not one of the younger ponies made a sound, not even to draw breath.
“...but I don’t see why we should sell you our cargo. We’re only a day out of port, and we only stocked enough for us and the Skysisters for our trip to Las Pegasus and back.” she continued, casting her gaze around the room.
Chucklehead, as it turned out, did not live up to his namesake. He blandly tapped a crate. “I see. But you’re willing to give your charts to us?” he said, his cold eyes glinting a sickly green. Autumn chuckled a little. “What?”
“I never agreed to that. I only offered a copy of our map to you. Come to think of it, I don’t think I saw your casino smoking. Nor burnt, nor full of holes, or really in any notable distress that would legalize you seizing my property!” She swished her blade in the air, Clash just now noticing the shiny, sharp steel.
“Just what are you trying to pull, captain?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Nothing.” He held his hooves in mock defeat. “I just wanted to see how smart you were.”
“Smarter than you could know, Chucklehead.” she growled. “Or whatever your name is.”
“Ooh, a tough one. I like tough mares.” He pulled his face closer, his eyes glinting sickly green. Meanwhile, a clatter on deck rang out across the sky. Muffled enough that the two captains either ignored it, or didn’t hear it.
“Come with me, Autumn. I’ll make you a princess,” he said, a billow of fog emanating from his cracked lips, across his sharp fangs. The clown makeup and the pink fur was almost gone, receding into the thick black carapace of an insectoid body.
“Do I look like a foal?” she said, brandishing the sword and settling into a fencing stance. “Go to Tartarus. This conversation is over, and I want you to get off my ship. Now.”
“Shame.” He said, voice buzzing as if with static. In a flash of lime green fire, his foreleg was buried deep in her chest, blood soaking her vest. “You would have made a fascinating Changeling.” He slid his leg from the wound, revealing a glistening black blade where the hoof should have been.
Captain Autumn Breeze coughed once, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as she collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood.
Melody gasped right beside Clash and Slopes, making them jump. Clash’s wings spread hard and fast. hitting Slopes in the face, who couldn’t suppress a cry of “Ow!” cueing Melody and Clash to put a hoof each to her mouth.
Too late. Captain Chucklehead whirled on the closet, his hoof-blade tearing the door open. “What have we here? Little spies, I see!” Chucklehead yelled, voice rising in volume with each word.
He slashed, hoof embedding in the thick oak of the doorframe. Melody narrowly avoided it as she rolled from underneath and grabbed Slopes, who was wheeling out as fast as she could. While Chucklehead’s attention was turned to freeing his limb, Clash darted out from beneath the table, grabbing Autumn’s engraved sword in his mouth and standing tall, though inwardly he was shaking like a filly. Chucklehead pulled his appendage from the door frame, turning back to Clash and chuckling softly.
“What do you think you’re going to do, little pony?” Chucklehead extended another hoof blade and hovered in the air, suspended by translucent insect wings that hadn’t been there before. He was easily a meter taller than Clash.
“Hmm Gnna Ruuh,” he said around the blade. Chucklehead cocked his head to the side, hoof blades at the ready.
“What?”
Clash swung his head, letting the sword fly at Chucklehead. He dodged it with a hiss, but that scant second gave Clash enough time to pick the sword up a second time from where it had landed and fly out of the room at top speed. Chucklehead gave chase immediately.
“Cowardly foal! Come back here and fight!” he yelled, slowly gaining speed. Clash turned into a room and took a second to shove the sword between his saddlebags, where it was secure enough for the time being. The changeling cut through the door effortlessly, just in time to be bowled over by the speeding pegasus as he flew up the stairs and rendezvoused with his companions, slamming the door to belowdecks behind him. They all stood there, panting from panic and exertion, the door to belowdecks being battered by Chucklehead, who spat curses through the heavy metal.
“What in Tartarus was that thing?!” cried Melody, staring in horror at the door.
“A Changeling,” panted Slopes between breaths, shaking her head. “I read about them in one of my history books, but I thought they had all vanished. I guess there’s a few left.”
“More than a few,” came Clash’s voice, unusually soft. The other two turned towards the deck to see what he was looking at.
It was a slaughter. The unarmed Earth ponies were all rounded up and either thrown overboard, or impaled on Changeling spines. The pegasi and gryphons still fought the innumerable horde in the sky, getting slaughtered by sheer force of numbers. The unicorns, however, were taken captive wherever possible and put into glowing green and black pods. Clash felt a sudden pain around his neck as a black tendril whipped through the keyhole of the door, leaving a shallow cut across his muzzle and throat. He jumped back from the door, and the Changeling captain forced his way through, snarling. In his hooves was the box captain Autumn had in her saddlebags.
Slopes was about to cast a spell at the creature, but was interrupted when strong hooves pulled her out of the chair and over the side of the ship. Clash screamed in her ear, something about a spell and clouds, but was drowned out by the explosion in the hull and the thunder crack of the cannons being fired at both theVerdant Shore and the new, massive changeling ship.
The droning buzz of the horde was the first thing she heard, the next was the panicked screech from the two other ponies to “Cast the damned spell!” Clash was no weakling, but keeping two other ponies aloft was too much for most any pegasus, and the exertion was only making the gash in his neck bleed more. Slopes racked her mind, thinking of all the pegasi she knew, everything she had learned about clouds, spells, and magic. Her horn glowed an intense crimson and heated up to the point of singeing her mane. She landed hard on soft, puffy cloud cover. Clash and Melody lay next to her.
Melody stood, initially panicking about standing on the cloud and not letting go of Clash. Clash stood and shook her off as politely as he could. She didn’t let go of either pony, but she walked on her hinds.
“You did it...” Clash said solemnly, looking at the slowly descending wreck of wood, metal and cotton that he called his home.
He turned around when he heard somepony crying, and saw Melody, still with a terrified expression on her face, sobbing openly. Slopes was nearby, struggling to keep her withered hind legs above the cloud cover, her chair left behind on the ship. For her part, the crippled pony had her eyes locked firmly on the clouds beneath her forehooves, her expression grim.
“Your ship...” Melody muttered. She looked down at a torn piece of a star chart she still held on the flat of her hoof. “All those ponies... I’m so sorry...” she said, trembling.
Slopes crawled over to her, putting a hoof on her chin and turning her head. “Hey, listen. It’s alright. It’s not your fault, okay?” She, too, had tears in her eyes. They slowly embraced.
“So... we’re allowed in the casino, right?” Clash said, turning away from the two of them. “You two can walk on clouds, so I can make a cloud bridge for you two, provided your patience doesn’t wear too thin.”
Slopes nodded, looking around. Melody spoke up, a catch in her voice making her a little difficult to understand.
“You should be allowed aboard. I don’t know, now, though... with the captain being one of those... monsters...”
“They’re called Changelings.” Slopes piped up uncharacteristically. “They have a magic much like an Earth pony’s ground and farming magic, in that it’s inherent and every single one of them can do it. It extends to both voice and physical appearance, and is very hard to detect without the proper training or spell.”
Clash swooped a cloud up and put it down on the little cove next to them. “Mind?” he said, lifting Slopes up and holding him over Melody. She nodded, and Clash carelessly dropped her on her, making her writhe a little.
“Terribly sorry, Slip. My mistake.” He sounded flat. He raced off to find the next cloud. Slopes rubbed her legs, small and twisted from birth, and wondered why Clash was acting like he was. Not far from this thinking, Melody wondered why Slopes was the only one talking to her.
-----------------------------------------------[END]-----------------------------------------------
Clash is referring to the Cat ‘o Nine Tails, a cruel, many-pronged whip often used in nautical disciplinary action. He means there is a good chance of their being flogged.
Clockwork Alicorn: Steam and Steel
The Plot Thickens with Cake
CLOCKWORK ALICORN: STEAM AND STEEL.
The Adventures of Ship’s Boy Thunder Clash and Ship’s Maid Sterling Slopes.
II - The Plot Thickens with Cake
Written by: Dr. Keiser Tangus von Nohugh and Silvertongue Overlord.
The casino was a monolithic thing, an enormous cube slowly pushing its way through the air three thousand feet above the ground. Spinning turbines gave off noiseless thrust while the balloonish blimps mounted on the walls kept the massive building afloat dependably, leaving barely enough room for the house-sized windows. All of the walls outside were faded pink, covered in advertisements for themselves and their sister ships. A huge red bow built of steel and brass completed the “present” theme of the ship, simultaneously providing a source of worry that the unwieldy thing would tip over and unbalance the whole casino.
Clash watched the casino float slowly towards them, adjusting the path of clouds he’d laid out for his companions to intercept its course. He’d thought of carrying them both, but Slopes had argued he would tire too quickly and they’d plummet to their inevitable doom more than half a mile below. Melody had agreed that this would not be in any of their best interests. He had to confess, he was already starting to feel the strain of constantly working the clouds.
Aside from the initial discussion, the three of them were mostly keeping to themselves. They were still shaken by the night’s events, and the scratch on Clash’s neck inflicted by the Changeling kept breaking it’s scab and bleeding. He didn’t tell the two mares about it though, as doing so might indicate he couldn’t handle a little pain. Hours of finding and pushing clouds kept Clash from thinking about the slaughter of the crew. It couldn’t, however, keep his mind from wandering to thoughts of Melody. Clash frowned, a jealous frown he shared with his distant granduncle, Blueblood. Infamous as he was, young Thunder Clash was fortunately too far away in the family tree to inherit much more than his looks. Though he had no way of knowing it, the expression on his face now was the closest he’d ever come to Blueblood’s scowl.
He stared at the casino for a moment more, catching his breath, then flew back to get a particularly dark cloud. He brought it back to the cloud cover he’d stumbled upon earlier, which saved him at least a quarter of an hour of work. He could hear the two mares talking below, idle, boring facts and fictions of the kind used by mares as a barrier against recent tragedy. Gossip that he’d never thought he’d hear come out of his shy, bookish friend’s muzzle was being passed between the two like a teapot... which was another image that didn’t quite seem to fit Slopes. She was opening up to Melody more than she’d ever done for him, even though he’d been her best friend for years now.
A wave of jealous anger passed through him and he lashed out, bucking the large, dark cloud he was moving. Thunder cracked through the sky, making the two jump and interrupting their chatter. Melody glared up at him while Slopes suddenly became very intrigued by the clouds beneath her hooves. Clash gave them a sarcastic salute and flew away to fetch more clouds. He winced as he flew, rubbing his neck where the wound was once again bleeding freely.
He returned to find them chatting again, this time about his behavior. Clash struggled up onto the alcove high above them to rest and eavesdrop. He was totally exhausted now, listening to their private speaking with half-open eyes, barely able to keep himself awake.
“...think he’s alright. He’s acting out a little more than usual, though, I promise he isn’t usually like this.” Slopes said.
“To be fair, you two did just watch your ship go down with the entire crew on it... And when I think about how they came from the casino... those... what were they called?”
“Changelings. They’re shapeshifters who feed off the love between ponies.” Slopes supplied.
“I wonder how they do that? And how they managed to get aboard the casino, my home, so long ago? I mean, I’ve known some of those ponies for years! At least... well, I thought I did.” Melody blinked back tears, and Slopes put a sympathetic hoof on her shoulder, but whatever she was about to say in reply was cut off as a fat drop of liquid splattered across her ear.
“Oh, horseapples... Clash! Can’t you do anything about the rain? We don’t want to get soaked! The last thing we need is a cold.” called the crippled mare.
“I... I don’t think that’s rain, Sterling,” Melody said, staring wide-eyed at the side of the other pony’s head. She reached over and wiped at her mane, her hoof coming away bright red.
They looked up simultaneously to see Clash draped on a cloud, blood from his earlier neck wound dripping through the vapor. “Clash!” cried Slopes, suddenly afraid, carefully wrapping her friend in a levitation spell and lowering him to their cloud.
“Oh, Luna. Look at his neck,” breathed Melody, putting a hoof to her mouth.
The seemingly slight wound Chucklehead had inflicted upon the brave pegasus’ neck had been much deeper than it looked. Clash was pale, his breath coming light and fast as his eyelids flickered. He wasn’t conscious.
“We’ve got to do something! We need to get to the Casino, now!” cried the unicorn, cradling her friend’s head.
“We may not get the chance,” said Melody, staring into the distance. “Something’s coming.”
Sterling Slopes followed her gaze and had to bite back a sob as she saw half a dozen dark, winged figures homing in on them.
Deep within the recesses of his own mind, Clash was dreaming.
“Chucklehead!” shouted a ridiculously well-muscled buck wearing brown leather coveralls. His face didn’t show, covered by a black mask and glowing goggles connected to a leather aviator’s cap that spewed a constant stream of smoke. He brandished a sword that looked very much like Autumn’s, only with hundreds of gears of inscrutable purpose. Chucklehead turned and laughed, dropping the dessicated corpse of a crewpony.
“Well, well! Thunder Clash, we meet again!” said the black bug-fiend. “I have no time to deal with you! My army of ...Feedlings? Feedlings, will take care of you!”
“Doubtful, you fiend! Stand and face me!” he bellowed in a commanding baritone. The buzzing of a million wings struck up a ruckus behind him. He turned to see thousands of... Feedlings... whatever they were called, rise in a slow, patterned assault. A blast of lightning struck hundreds of them down at once.
“Slopes!” he said, putting a hoof to his chest and facing the wrong way. Slopes came down on a cloud, dressed in a skimpy suit of brass armor and surrounded by beautiful mares playing instruments.
“Ho, Clash!” she shouted in her normal voice. It didn’t make any sense for such a large, amazonesque cyberpony to sound like she was fresh out of puberty, but Clash ignored this. Slopes landed on the deck, her brass clockwork legs making large cracks in the wood.
“I will hold them off! Me and my army of... Matrickes!” she said, waving a metal hoof for him to go. As she did, the... Matrickes... turned out to be robotic clockwork gryphons with cannons for legs.
Clash rushed belowdecks, tearing several doors free of their hinges. He saw Chucklehead torturing Melody with the reading of a large book.
“And thusly! A unicorn cannot cast a spell without the proper materials in her or his possession! The reagents of which cannot be defined here!” he read out loud in a dramatic voice, twirling a thin moustache he’d somehow just grown and cackling evilly.
“Foul demon! Captain Clash will save me! Look... There he is!” she said, looking over at him. “Oh, Clash!”
Chucklehead turned and his dragonfly wings extended. “Foal! You will face my wrath!” he bellowed, charging forward, book raised high.
“Not today, beast!” Clash bellowed back. He swung his sword in the air, slashing through the defenseless Feedling king.
“No! I am killed! Slain, by such a foal!” He plopped unceremoniously on the floor, little red ‘X’’s marking his eyes.
“You’re so brave and strong, Clash!” Melody swooned. Clash caught her in his arms.
“Kiss me, my love.” she said, her eyes sparkling as they stared deeply into his.
Clash needed no second invitation.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clash awoke to discover that he was, indeed, embracing a pony in his lips. Slopes was sitting next to him and pushing on his forehead and chest, trying unsuccessfully to keep the overly romantic Clash from slobbering on her shoulder.
“Hey, you two alright there?” Melody chided from the corner, holding a hoof to her mouth to hide her giggling.
Clash stopped gnawing on Slopes to wipe his mouth, throwing her an apologetic look. He looked around, taking in the scene. He was in a hospital bed, covered in bandages. Doctors looking bored or confused studied either Clash or charts showing his vital signs.
“You feeling okay?” Slopes asked, prodding at the stitching in Clash’s neck. He swatted the hoof away, biting his lip from the pain.
“What the hay happened? Where are we?” he said, getting out of bed and ripping an IV out of his leg. Slopes wrapped him in a burgundy blanket of magic and laid him back down, struggling to keep him still as the doctor magicked a new IV needle into his other leg.
“You shouldn’t move around unnecessarily, mister Clash.” A bright red colored pony said, standing straight up after taping the IV in. “It would be bad if your stitching ripped in mid flight, or something else awful happened. That wound barely missed your jugular, and it took awhile to stop the bleeding.” She pulled out a chart and tossed it to him.
Landing flatly on his stomach, he flipped through the pages, looking only at the pictures. He gave it to Slopes, who read it intently. She set the file back down on his stomach and started explaining.
“You have severe fractures in two ribs, minor ocular laceration, and...” Clash tapped his hooves and gave an impatient, dry smile.
She sighed. “Your chest is kinda broken, your left eye had a small shard of wood lodged in it, taken out now, and your head is badly bruised. Your neck and throat are mildly cut and will heal more quickly than the rest of you. It’s a good thing you weren’t hurt any worse, or else you wouldn’t have been flying around at all. As for your other questions, we’re aboard the casino. Some ponies saw the cloud trail you were making, and they came to check it out. Lucky for us it was them, and not the changelings again.”
Clash rubbed his legs together, trying to rip out the IV again. “I don’t feel anything wrong, my neck hurts a little, but that’s about it.” Again, he was held down by her magic. “Would you kindly let me go, Slip?” he said through clenched teeth.
Melody threw her two bits in from across the room. “They had to give you a lot of painkillers so you wouldn’t feel it when they fixed you up. You’re not supposed to move until the medics clear you, Clashie.” He winced at the name. “So we’re going to let you sleep for a while, right Slip?” Slopes let the magic fade somewhat, a baffled look on her face.
“We are?” she asked, turning her new chair to face Melody, who nodded eagerly. “Oh... Alright then, I guess.”
Clash pulled the IV out again, but didn’t move from the bed. Slopes looked a little sullen as Melody rolled her out of the room.
“By Tartarus, I hate this place.” He spread his forelegs to indicate the recovery room. The two doctors remained, not saying a word to the defiant Clash.
------
“By Celestia! I hate this room with the passion of a million burning suns!” Clash bellowed out, waking a few grumbling patients. They’d provided a book and a ball , courtesy of Slopes and Melody respectively (Melody had informed him there were caches of balls hidden all over the casino, if one knew where to look). He’d tried playing with the ball, but it fell against the wall and didn’t return, and the book was titled The Astronomer’s Astronomical Guide to all Things Astronomy, so he didn’t even bother opening it. He’d been waiting for nearly an hour for the doctors to come and administer another painkiller, without which he was beginning to feel the effects of a bruised skull and a cracked rib.
The nurse brought in a tray of food. Still no painkillers. He grunted at the table, reaching over to it with considerable effort. As he spooned through the dull pink lump of what might have been mashed potatoes or alfalfa mush, he managed to somehow splatter the vile gunk across his leg. He grimaced, reaching for the napkin to wipe it off, and blinked as something fell from the folds of cloth into his lap. He picked it up, a small slip of paper with only four words printed on it.
“Go to the roof?” he whispered softly to himself, wondering who it was from. His mind wandered away to a mess of incoherent thoughts until he settled on the pony he thought sent it.
“It must be Melody.” he said, grinning.
Clash looked around again, taking in every detail for the umteenth time. Magic and steam and clockwork driven machines ran noisily in the background, keeping ponies alive or asleep as they recovered. The floors were spotless and shiny white tile. The walls presented the same boring, sterile color. Immediately, Clash stood to look around the corner, tearing his IV out again with the sudden movement. He suppressed a sharp squeak and turned. Not a single orderly, doctor, or anypony but the patients, who were all asleep. A window provided a little light. The moon was bright and nearly full, and Clash was edgy and too energetic for sleep anyway... so why not?
He dropped to the floor, creeping on the tips of his hooves as quietly and as low to the ground as possible, a goofy grin plastered on his face. He came up to a large wooden double door painted a dark brown. He cracked it open, peering out into the empty hallway. He wasted no time sidling out the door and creeping along the left wall, reaching the nurse’s office. He glided over the very top of the station, sneaking past the inattentive nurse reading a book.
As soon as he’d clicked the door open, he heard voices coming towards him. A few flashlights and angry grumbling. Clash could swear he’d even heard barking. He flew to the door adjacent to the one he’d just come through, and blinding light greeted his night vision. Hundreds of ponies talking, laughing, cursing, and playing games at dedicated tables.
Clash stripped his gown and threw it behind the door. He looked for a few moments at the bustling crowd before moving on to the elevator on the far side of the room. The doctors came out in a pack, spreading out in a fan pattern to cover the room. Clash kept his head down and waited for the elevator doors to open. One of the nurses came over, a suspicious look in her eye, and tapped him on the shoulder as the elevator door opened. He shot in the elevator, smacking the close button. The nurse arrived a moment short, cursing underneath her breath.
“Mister Clash! You must return to your bed immediately!” came the call, garnering the attention of a few ponies he did not want to see at that moment, including some of the pink-uniformed security. His heart raced in excitement as he reached the top most floor the elevator allowed. He flew to the stairs, barreling past a couple of ponies who were giggling and trying to unlock their room.
------
He slammed the door behind him, panting for breath, and listened for signs of pursuit. Not hearing any, he let out a relieved breath, taking stock of his surroundings. He was on the roof of the airship, and the thin air was barely made breathable by the respiratory spell wards that ran around the edge of the roof. Irritably, Clash started tearing off the bandages that swathed his chest.
“Feeling confined?” asked a voice from nearby. Clash whirled around, his wings spreading in alarm. He saw a grown mare in pink-dyed leather that did not match her demeanor in the least. On her shoulder were two red balloons and a yellow balloon, making her a lieutenant commander.
“Who are you?” Clash said, looking around with a cautious eye. He was still wary after his experience with Changelings, and remembering how perfect their disguises were, he felt cold sweat break out on his neck.
“I’m the mare that had to haul your sorry flank across half a mile of cloud cover.” she said, looking him over with the eye of a practiced drill instructor. “I heard from your friends what you did back on your ship, facing down that rat bastard Chucklehead. You did alright, for a ship’s boy, given how little training you’ve had. Your captain must’ve been damn good for her crew, if her ship’s boy can fight like that.”
Clash swelled with pride, though he still felt the loss of his captain and crew like a blow to the stomach. “Captain Breeze always did right by all of us, ma’am. She was a good officer, and a good friend.”
“She was still a merchant, and she led you all down an absurdly cushy lifestyle. I said you fought well for a ship’s boy, which isn’t saying much. Especially on a merchant vessel.”
He bristled at this, shocked into anger by what felt like a rebuke. “I’m sorry, maybe I didn’t have much experience fighting changelings, seeing as my captain wasn’t one,” He retorted.
“Watch your mouth, foal. I’m bringing this up for a reason. You could have killed that changeling son of a cockatrice if you’d been trained as a soldier instead of an amateur. That’s what I’m offering; A way to protect yourself and those two fillies you’re friends with.”
Clash calmed himself, snorting heavily. “I’m listening.”
“You’re learning, then.” The older mare regarded him critically. “You’re a strong young buck with plenty of spirit, and your whole life ahead of you... But that little crippled filly doesn’t have half your strength, and my niece isn’t much stronger herself.”
The young buck in question furrowed his brow in puzzlement. “Your niece?”
“Melody. Her mother was my half-sister, Singalong. We’re both daughters of Pinkamina Diane Pie, the founder of Pinkie Pie’s Parliament Party and pioneer of the turbine.”
“Whoah.” Clash’s eyes widened in amazement. “The Pinkie Pie? Like, elemental Laughter incarnate? I didn’t know she had kids!”
Dead Reckoning rolled her eyes. “Yes, she had kids. I’m one of them. I didn’t take after her... bubbly side, much.”
“Clearly.” Clash said, moving to the rail. The giant brass bow shifted and settled, offering a sound of comfort to both of the ponies who spent their times living below deck in ships. She stood next to him, her glazed look unfaltering. Clash took a deep breath.
“Why us? Why was it our ship?” he asked, staring at a cloud shaped like a tree. Reckoning, taken slightly aback by his moodswing, answered readily.
“You had something that Chucklehead wanted. I remember him saying you had a “present” for us, although he never said what it was.”
“Any idea what it was?” Clash said, thinking back to the small steel and bronze box the changeling was carrying away.
“I don’t know. We did manage to salvage some things from the Shore, though. Papers and food, mostly. We figured we’d let your marefriend take a look at them before we filed them away,” she said. “There weren’t any other survivors?” asked Clash. The older mare shook her head grimly. Before he could say anything more, Reckoning gestured for him to follow, leading him further into the leviathan storage facility of the Casino.
------
They arrived in a massive room filled with ponies rushing around, stacks of paper being hooved and magicked around a very small walking space, and noise. The ones they met in the small walkthroughs saluted and squeezed themselves into a corner to allow their acting captain and her guest to pass. They rounded the corner closest to them and were greeted with a massive hulk of planks, metal and rope.
“The Verdant Shore, or what’s left of it, is being transported to Canterlot for archiving as per naval tradition. The personal effects, however...” she motioned to a unicorn, who saluted and hastily brought out a large chest with her magic. It popped open with a whir, the clockwork lock already broken from years of use. Reckoning pulled out a very familiar gilded sheath, with an ornate pommel jutting from the top.
“Your captain’s sword?” she asked. Clash nodded, staring in open awe at the blade. The silvery metal had seen years of use from other captains, cutting through pirates and monsters alike, yet unpitted and shining brilliantly. He had spent hours daydreaming about wielding one just like it. “It’s yours,” said Reckoning, startling him out of his reverie. “Wh.. What?”
The mare grunted in reply, saying, “Your captain had no close familial ties, or at least none she admitted to, and we did find a will in her lockbox. It stated that in the event of her death, the highest-ranking member of her crew would be granted access to all of her personal wealth, as well as her title and holdings, to be divided among the rest of the crewmembers. Congratulations, Captain Clash.” She saluted briefly, and he dumbly returned the gesture. Captain Clash? “Just like that?” She nodded. “Just like that. Now all you need’s a new ship.”
He tied the hilt back to the scabbard, sheathing the metal in the sturdy, ornate leather. Clash immediately missed the chrome sheen, and the mare that was supposed to wield it. He felt a lump building in his throat. Reckoning tied the other end to Clash's waistcoat. After she finished, she pulled out another item. A belted coat with chainmail armor on the chest and joints... another relic passed down to Autumn. This had quite a story to it, but Clash didn't have time to think of it before a slight pinch in his flank drew his thoughts away from it. Reckoning pulled out the last, and probably most important item to Clash. An ornate box, within which rested an intricate tangle of brass and dragonscale. Many years in his childhood he would obsess over it, even going so far as to dress up as a book character called "Derring Do", and emulate her actions to take it. Usually resulting in a short flogging.
"These are yours. You may want to hide these away for now, until you can use them." Reckoning said. Clash, whose thoughts snapped like a taut rope, simply nodded. She nodded back, towards the door. "Now, go. We'll start tomorrow."
The elevator shuddered to a halt, a metallic ring indicating his floor. He felt dangerously sleepy, as if he’d pass out on the floor in the hall. Clash stepped slowly into the room, keeping quiet so as to not disturb the two mares. In the dark. Alone. With each other. His mind went to a different place before turning to thoughts of a soft, plush bed waiting for him.
Melody came out of the room she picked, bouncing over to him. A wide grin plastered her face, with Slopes looking a little sullen following her out. “Hi Clash! Feeling better?” Clash’s eyes glazed, and he turned and picked a room out. Her smile faded slightly from his disregard, and she glared at him. “Where’d you get all that cool stuff?” she said in a slightly less enthusiastic tone.
I'll tell you later. He tried to force the words from his mouth. I’ll tell you later.
He couldn’t. Every fibre of his being shut down, the fatigue draining him of everything he had. Melody shuffled around a bit, inspecting him for something. Her words muffled in his ears, she asked him something. Slopes rolled in, too. He still felt nothing. They looked worried, Slopes inspecting a small, black thorn that Melody had ripped from his flank.
A trap. Those were the words he could make out. Melody’s hair stood on end, and her tail shocked upwards, knocking the shard out of Slope’s unprepared magic. As his eyes could hold open no longer, a black facade of a pony snuck quietly behind them.
------
Clash awoke from his dreamless state, his body still drained of energy. Slopes knew because he wasn’t yelling about how insane they were for touching her. The poisoned chitin she’d inspected was imbued with night magic, a form forbidden to all but the most renegade of sky pirates. It was dangerous. Unbidden and free, not defensive, and borne from hatred. A changeling favorite. She was chained to the large, splintered table.
Dead Reckoning, although Slopes did not recognize her, walked in. She pulled off her hat and coat, setting them on a colt who bowed and walked away.
“I think I’ve made my point very clear, don’t you?” she said, patting Slopes’ head like a mother and a foal.
“What do you want?” she asked harshly, keeping a slight edge to her voice. Reckoning flapped her wings twice and smiled.
“I want that box. Whatever is in it is important to those changelings, and you two are the only ones I’m going to risk to get it back. Think of it as payment for our services.”
Melody stood far away, in the corner next to the boxes of personal items from the Shore. Slopes shot her a glare, which Melody gracefully brushed off. “We’re arriving in Canterlot now. I expect you to pay your debts to us.” Slopes again looked to her former companion, this time meeting with an ignorant and melancholy expression.
------
“Are you absolutely sure you’re ready for this, colt? I wouldn’t blame you for backing out.”
“I’m dead certain.” Clash answered.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Don’t get killed, okay? It’d look bad on me... and you’ll break poor Melody’s heart if Slopes were to die.”
Dead Reckoning stood in front of a table. Splayed out on it was thousands of bits worth of gear. Weaponry, armor, maps, and various tools. A firestarter coated in gold caught his eye first. It was her personal lighter, a gift for his bravery. He unceremoniously scooped it all into his saddlebags, tying them down and strapping it to his back.
“Good luck.” she said, leaving through the farthest door. Clash waited for a minute as they brought out Slopes in a wheelchair. It was made of brass and painted like a present. As part of his plan, she and Melody were informed that they were to be paying a debt. It saved him from questions and bought her support for his mission.
As they looked on to the fast approaching city, one thought crossed both their minds.
Where did they start?
-----------------------------------------------[END]-----------------------------------------------
