Clockwork Moon

Eye of the Storm (4)

Tinkertoy Smith was having a very strange dream.

The fish outside the glass tunnel probably thought so too.

The glass tunnel, and indeed, the rest of the dream, required some explanation. At the moment, he stood inside a glass tunnel, roughly three metres wide and tall, with the top of the tunnel curved in a convex manner. The end result was more like a glass hallway, as opposed to a tunnel, with several metal supports every couple metres to hold up against the massive pressure of the ocean floor. Above, only the barest hint of light shone through the murky canopy of the ocean, isolating him completely, even from the surface.

And yet, against all odds, he breathed air.

The tunnel itself wasn’t very long, at most ten metres from end to end, without any bombastic curves. The tunnel ended on both sides at a metal wall, stylized with a metal inlay of a city on par with Manehattan, and a single word above; “Lux”. The penultimate end of all things, paradise, a mythical state of being. He’d never been big on the religion, but considering Celestia was one of the holy daughters, there hadn’t really ever been a reason to assume anything else. He just wasn’t as devoted as whoever built this place obviously was. Nor as full of himself.

He took another impossible breath.

He watched his chest expand, and compress. A harness, similar to his utility saddle but more combat-oriented, moved with it. A blood-stained crowbar hung by his side, as well as some kind of tribal machete. He stood on his hind legs once more, the spring-boots having been scaled down for easier use inside. He doubted he could bounce around as though on a pogo-stick anymore, but he likely wouldn’t need to. His mechanical hands were present as well, the left buzzing with electricity.

Wait. It shouldn’t… buzz?

He turned his hoof over for a better look, and was startled to find the buzzing was coming from his hoof, and the electricity arcing around the inside of the rim. He used a finger of the hand to touch his frog, and the electricity eagerly jumped with it. He jumped, expecting to fry, but merely felt an unpleasant tingling. In an instant, the electricity had followed the course of his veins and up his foreleg, colouring them blue, Likely reached his heart, and flowed back down to his frog in time with his heartbeat. Freaky.

Experimentally, he outstretched his foreleg at a metal support, and splayed his hand in the same way he had fired the device at the palace. The blue arc exploded outward, striking the support and visibly electrifying it, with the contact point growing white hot for a moment. The water on the other side bubbled for a moment, the steam rising to the surface.

“Hoof fulla loightnin’, boyo. We’ve been over this, so would ya kindly get movin’, and quit wastin’ COS?” He jumped at the sound of Niles’ voice. It had been a while since he’d spoken to him, but he was pretty sure Niles didn’t have a Skyrish accent. He looked around, confused, until he saw what looked like a scaled-down short-wave radio strapped to his left hind thigh. Bringing it to his muzzle, he clicked the ‘transmit’ button.

“Uh… Niles?”

“Wot? Do ya need directions? Forward. Medical’s dead ahead, and Scalpel is in there somewhere. Get the key, remember? Do oi need ta hold yer hand, too? Oi would, but it’s a radio, and-“ A series of thumps emanated from the line, like hoofsteps on metal. “Shit, the Splicers are in the vents! They’re in the light-damned vents!” More thumps, but these sounded more like gunshots. “Hah! Take that, ya buckin’ freaks! Ooh, that duct’s  leaking blood now. Least I know I got ‘im. Just keep movin’, Lad. I gotta concentrate on runnin’ now, so I won’t be able to talk much, but- Oh cocks. Seeya in a bit, I just opened a door into Splicer central.”

A few insane war whoops and growls echoed through the speaker and around the hallway, as well as more gunshots. He really didn’t need to hear that, so off the radio went. Or at the least, he switched to another channel. This held another surprise, in the form of Luna’s voice now filtering through the speaker. With just a hint of a stalliongrad accent.

“Tinkeirtoy? Art thou alright? What is this strange dream that thou art having?”

“I’m not sure… It seems.. vaguely familiar, however… Probably nothing. What about you, are you okay?”

“Indeed! I appear to be in a room with several surveillance screens. They art low of quality, and show only differing levels of grey, but they suffice. ‘Tis water above thee, is it not? Oh! Thank you, Med Kit. ‘Tis a very nice… Bear, no? I shalt cherish thy gift, my little pony.”

“Luna?” It seemed she was now speaking to another pony. After he’d heard of the splicers from not-Niles, he was slightly jumpy about unknown ponies.

“’Tis also a small number of fillies with me. They seemed scared, and rightfully so, of the ponies outside, but I hath been protecting them for a few hours now.”

“Hours? Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure it’s only been a few minutes at the most for me.”

“Mm. Time is a nebulous creature within the confines of the mind. It bends, stretches to make fit that which cannot, obstructing memory and making sections run faster or slower. We can only observe this plainly within thine dreams. Thou canst learn much of a pony through thine dreams.”

“Wow… So, what’s this dream saying about me?”

“I cannot see all of it, but what I can see… ‘Tis curious. Inequine monsters running across an alien landscape, which is too detailed to be an absent-minded creation. Thou hath been here before.”

“I’ve never seen this place in my life! I’d damn well remember this hellhole!”

“I beg thy pardon? Oh! Apologies, one of the fillies wishes my attention.” The radio clicked off, and Tinkertoy was left alone once more. He spared another glance around the glass corridor.

“Right. Sod this, I’m gonna go poke about in my brain.” He stepped towards the end of the hallway, and the strange artwork on the wall there. Seconds before he reached it, however, it slid upwards, revealing a proper room this time.

This new room seemed to be a reception area, with three major entrances and exits. The first was the one he came through, while another was behind the desk. By the desk was a wooden cabinet, with one of the wooden doors being slightly broken, and slightly off it’s hinges. To his left was a giant steel door, like one would see on a bank vault of a particularly fancy bank, and more strange engravings on it.

This normality only made the wall to the right even more horrific. Piles of debris surrounded a green pegasus lying on the floor, splayed in front of a wall with HE SAID HED MAKE ME PRETTY painted on it in blood. The tail of the Y trailed down the wall, pooling around a recording device lying against it. He gingerly stepped around the mare, pausing next to the device. With his new vantage point, he could see her a little more clearly. She was lying facedown in another pool of blood, and had she been alive, this surely would’ve caused problems. She wore a red cocktail dress, a slinky number with glittery bits outlining a thin hourglass figure she came only a little short of, designed with holes through which her wings could stretch. They seemed slightly thin, fragile, and bent oddly, but the way the dress was designed implied that they were that way before she died. Said wings splayed like a blanket across her, and feathers had scattered like somepony had murdered a pillow instead of a mare. He gave her a gentle nudge with his hoof to roll her over.

He regretted his decision almost immediately, as her face… Well. It had been pretty, at some point. He could see that even now, mutilated as it was. She still had one purple eye, some pleasant laugh lines, but really, it all served to make it seem worse. Gryphons ate non-sentient meat, that was common knowledge, and he had worked in a restaurant back in Las Pegasus. He’d seen ground beef before, but that was a mare’s eye right in the middle of it!

Shivering, he rolled her back onto her stomach, trying his damndest to forget what his own subconscious had apparently thrown at him. Glancing around, he saw the tape recorder again, and picked it up in a slightly less blood-stained spot. With a press of the play button, it began to emit a familiar voice, however static-tinged.

“Log…uh…342. Date is August 12th, 1977. Just a quick bit of plastic surgery. Muzzle work. Patient has chosen to remain anonymous for this log. Surgeon is Dr. Scalpel, AKA myself.” The recorded voice cut out then, with a pop. It resumed almost immediately, but Tinkertoy could tell it had skipped ahead quite a lot in the interim. “-four-oh silk and… done.”

Another voice, a mare, spoke. “The muzzle looks terrific, Dr. Scalpel. …Doctor?”

“You know, looking at her now… I didn’t realize how much her face sags… Scalpel.”

“Excuse me?”

“Scalpel!”

“Uh, Doctor, she’s not booked for a face lift…”

“Let’s just come in here, and…” the sound of whistling, out of tune and weirdly flighty, began filtering through the speaker. It was not the whistle of a sane pony.

“Doctor… Stop cutting… Doctor, stop cutting… Get me the chief of surgery! Get me the chief of surgery now!” The recording died with a squeal, the tape inside the machine whirring of the wheel and becoming tangled, yanking more of itself into the gears until the whole thing died with a sound like a mouse being hit with a claw hammer. Tinkertoy stared at the device, and an outside observer would have just seen him staring into space. In truth, his mind was going a million miles an hour.

Something was off about this dream. Luna was right, when she said it was too vivid, as though he was remembering a place he had visited before. And yet… The answers wouldn’t come. He still didn’t know what was going on, or why he didn’t remember this place.

But he did know the answers were within that vault.

Leaving the tape recorder by the savaged mares’ body, he strode towards the massive vault door, inspecting it as well. It looked out of place, and for several reasons. First was the thick layer of dust lying on its surface. He wiped a hoof across the metal, and it came back with a coating of light brown dirt, like he had seen back in Las Pegasus, in the Moojave desert.

Second, it just didn’t seem to belong in the first place. Like the room had warped to fit it, the ceiling seemed to have stretched a few feet, the metal screws themselves being several feet wide. Had the door been designed to open outwards, it wouldn’t have been able, as the sudden drop in the ceiling would have made an effective doorstop.

He looked at the only recognizable markings, the numbers 101 stenciled military-style across a flat spot midway up, and had no idea what they meant. Only the vaguest inkling that they should’ve meant do much more. The whole vault was shaped like a giant gear, something else that should’ve meant something, but no secrets revealed themselves.

Luna’s voice came once more from the radio. “Tinkeirtoy! Something wicked thine way comes! To quote thy friend, Wouldst thou kindly hide somewhere?” In an instant, Tinkertoy was searching the room for anywhere large enough to hide him. His eyes settled on the cabinet he’d seen earlier, and he clambered into it, holding the door closed after himself. He watched the room from the safety of the broken door.

Thud. Drag. Thud. Griiiind. Thud. Drag. Thud.

Whatever was coming was approaching at its own pace, and it had one that was both slow and powerful. It certainly had the capacity to go faster, but then important details would be missed. And if that was done, then there was no point in moving forward at all.

Griiiind. Thud. Drag. Thud.

The sound came to a sudden stop, and Tinkertoy’s heart almost followed its lead. He quickly found that he had rather preferred the noise, because then he could at least tell what was going on.

Beyond his cupboard, the door behind the desk began to slide open excruciatingly slowly. It had only risen a metre before a tiny orange filly ducked underneath it and into the room. “Scootaloo?” Tinkertoy whispered from under his breath. She looked like Scootaloo, but she was different, somehow.

Her mane was even messier, as though forgotten completely. Her fur was discoloured, like she had never seen sunlight. And her eyes… She had no pupils, no iris, but merely an alien, magenta glow. Yet, she could obviously still see, as she darted haphazardly around the room. Her wings were changed too, as instead of being a normal Pegasus’ wings, they looked as though someone had built giant dragonfly wings and surgically implanted them into her back.

Finally, a wickedly sharp needle was strapped to her right hoof. The end opposite the point ended in a rubber tube, which led to a glass tank facing her muzzle. A fake teat was attached to that end, giving it the appearance of a psychopath’s baby bottle. Almost needless to say, it…she…Scootaloo was terrifying.

Behind her, the door sputtered, coming to a stop halfway up. A massive metal hand appeared below the door, and grabbed the bottom edge. A grunt, pained yet mechanical, echoed from the other side of the door as it began moving upward. It had only moved a single metre when it jammed again, the machinery inside the door shrieking as though stung.

Tinkertoy could see the owner of the metal hand now, and he instinctively tried to make himself smaller. It was a massive stallion, at least three metres tall, wearing what appeared to be an armor-plated scuba suit. His head was encased in a massive metal diving helmet, through which bright green lights shone outward, obscuring his face. His right hoof had either been replaced, or outfitted with a drill larger than the circumference of Tinkertoy’s barrel, and splattered with blood and… other liquids that should not have been outside of a pony. His other hoof had been equipped with a much larger version of the mechanical hand that Tinkertoy himself was using, large enough so that the stallion had to move on his knuckles like a gorilla.

He gave the metal door another push, but it was now solidly locked in place. He almost looked ready to find a way around, but he stopped when Scootaloo shouted, “C’mon, Mr. Bubbles! I can smell an angel!” When he heard her say that, he gripped the door once again, and made a noise not unlike a pained whale. Pained, yet defiant, unyielding.

He pushed, and yanked the whole damn thing out of the doorway, a giant steel door that weighed more than a desk made of metal. Tossing it aside with an ear-ringing clang, like the movement was nothing, he thudded his way into the room to follow Scootaloo. She darted to him, gave his knee a hug, and said, “Good work, Mr. Bubbles.!” She pulled away after a few seconds, and pointed at the mutilated corpse. “I found an angel Mr. Bubbles. Over here!”

Thud. Drag. Thud. Griiiind. Thud. Drag. Thud. Griiiind.

He followed her over to the corpse, where she was already gleefully stabbing her needle in and extracting quite a lot of blood. She continued this in multiple places, until the glass container was full, whereupon she put her mouth to the teat and began drinking it. She coughed as she finished, and the massive stallion gave her an impossibly gentle pat with his hand.

“Thanks, Mr. Bubbles.” She sniffed the air. “I smell another, Mr. Bubbles. They’re not an angel, but they will be soon!” And with that, she turned towards the cabinet Tinkertoy was hiding in. Her wings gave a buzz, and she darted up to the top of the cabinet. “Mr. Bubbles! They’re inside the safe!”

Tinkertoy jerked back from the gap in the door as Scootaloo swung onto the door from above, hanging on like a monkey. Seconds later, a giant, bloodstained needle jammed itself into the front of the cabinet, just underneath Tinkertoy’s genitals. He tried to stand up just a little bit higher. The needle moved up and down, wiggling inside the hole it had made in the door. It seemed to be stuck. Soon, the whole cabinet began rocking back and forth as Scootaloo began trying to pull the needle back out. It began creaking, and Tinkertoy braced himself as it tipped forward just a little too far.

With a slam like a piano being dropped, the whole cabinet fell on it’s front, almost directly on Scootaloo. The doors shattered, and Tinkertoy quickly grabbed the needle and forced it away from himself, while Scootaloo was shrieking something along the lines of, “I found him, Mr. Bubbles!”

Almost as quickly as it had fallen, the cabinet was lifted off of them, and the stallions lights had gone from a pleasant green to an angry red. “Get ‘em, Mr. Bubbles!” Shouted Scootaloo from beneath him. In the back of his mind, Tinkertoy realized that it probably looked like he’d attacked her, from where the eponymous Mr. Bubbles was standing.

He was so bucked.

In the space of a second, Tinkertoy found himself flying across the room, his chest hurting almost like he’d been kicked by something much larger than he was. Imagine that. Just as suddenly, his flight stopped, and he found himself practically plastered against the opposite wall. He opened his eyes, having shut during the flight, to find he’d landed against the massive vault, and its mysterious “101”.

He’d barely had enough time to register this before he was moving again. The air was squeezed out of his lungs by the Stallion (he was loath to call something that had so thoroughly kicked his ass Mr. Bubbles, at least to its face) as he held him up to his diving helmet. For just a moment, the lights inside dimmed, and Tinkertoy saw the face of the half-mechanical protector.

It was his face.

Older, more wounded, and with several parts warped or replaced, but his face all the same. It all clicked about then. Of course he was protecting Scootaloo. Of course he had a mechanical hand. Of course he was wearing the suit, if he’d gotten hurt that badly.

He would’ve thought about it more, but the lights brightened again, and he had to shut his eyes to keep from being blinded. However, even with his ears ringing, he could still hear another sound; the whirring of the drill spinning up. The Stallion slammed him into the front of the safe again, pinning him, and pulled the drill back as though winding up for a punch.

And then he slammed the drill forward, pulverizing his torso. Just for a moment, through all the blood and gore spraying from the drill, he saw a the brightest blue light he’d ever seen shine through from the vault, some part of the contents within freed by accident. Just enough to get a hint of what it contained, not nearly enough to even begin to understand what it was. Had he just another moment, he knew, he could’ve understood it all.

But unfortunately, the blood loss and massive organ damage caught up to him, and killed him. And because of the way he understood dreams, that meant one thing:

He woke up.

He woke up, and took a massive gasp of air. His hooves moved like a shot, checking that everything was still in the right places. Head, chest, forelegs, hind legs. One flesh, one metal. All the important bits were still there. The rest he could work out later.

A blue blur slammed against his barrel and clung there, knocking all of the air out of his lungs again, and causing a coughing fit. “Tinkertoy! Never do that again! I was so worried when I started being pulled from thy dream without warning, and looked to the monitors to observe thee being killed horrendously!”

“Can’t…breathe…”

“’Twas such a horrible place… Such slaughter and destruction, all so clear…”

“Luna… Love you…But can’t…Breathe…” This got Luna’s attention, and she loosened just enough for him to take a deep breath. She laid her head on his barrel as it inflated, and deflated, not unlike the dream.

The dream. Holy shit, what was that? Luna had said he’d have to have been there before, but none of it looked familiar. Even now, the finer details were slipping away. If that was what his subconscious looked like, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take any naps anytime soon.

Luna seemed to shiver, and that brought him back to the present. He was lying on a bed, with Luna lying almost on top of him.

Well, that was moving a bit quick. Not that he was complaining.

The bed seemed to take up most of the space in the small room, which was otherwise dominated by a writing desk with a window over it, a travel trunk, and a section of wall he guessed contained the bathroom. Past that was a door with another window in it, and a curtain that had been moved over it to obscure all sight inside.

Luna began to shift, moving away from him slightly, and facing away. “I… I apologize. I saw thee fall and lose consciousness within the doctors’ office, and worried. He had sedated thee immediately after I lifted thou back onto the table, and after he treated thy ears, sent us here. When you began shifting in thine sleep, I panicked, and entered thine dreams again. I… was not prepared for that.”

Tinkertoy shifted himself, sitting up on his haunches before hugging Luna with his forelegs. “Hey. It’s alright. We’re both alright now. Hell, I’m not even airsick any more!” This seemed to galvanize Luna, who turned around and looked in his eyes. “There is that word again. Thou used it before, in the dream, before I was interrupted by the filly. What is the meaning of that word? I have never encountered it in my life, neither before or after my banishment.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Where had he learned that word? He’d never heard it in his life, not from any pony other than himself. “I… I don’t know.”

Luna frowned. “Indeed. ‘Twould seem there art many things within thine mind that do not fit together, like a jigsaw puzzle that has been mixed with several others.” She sighed and slumped onto his chest again. “I cannot imagine how confused thou must be. Even upon returning from- Tinkertoy?”

She had stopped mid-sentence, and was staring at his barrel. “What? Is there something wrong?”

“These scars. Thou didst not mention them.”

“Scars?” Tinkertoy looked down at his chest, where Luna’s hoof had shifted his fur, and noticed the pinker-than-usual skin beneath. It seemed to outline a massive spot on his stomach, almost like something had burst outward, and for the life of him, he could not recall where he had gotten such a horrific injury. “Scars. Huh. I didn’t think I had those before.”

“Is this not where, in thy dream, the Stallion-“ She was interrupted yet again, this time by a knock at their cabin door. Luna glared at it, but then it shifted to him. “We shalt discuss these later.” It softened, as she continued. “But if thou truly cannot recall such grievous injuries such as these… such a fact is extremely disconcerting.”

The knocking came again, followed by Careful Count’s voice. “Princess? Mr. Smith? Are you two alright in there?” Tinkertoy looked at Luna, who motioned towards the bulkhead, and scooted off of him. Now that he was (regrettably) no longer underneath her, he wen to the door, opening it.

“Hey. Whatcha need?”

“I was just gonna tell you two that the Captain had invited you two to dinner with the crew, but if you’re, uh, busy-“

“Wha-? No no, just… sleeping. Dinner?”

“Yeah, The Captain thought because- shit, were you really asleep? I didn’t even think-“

“Seriously. It’s alright. Where’s the galley? I didn’t get directions before.”

“Down the hall, all the way to the front of the gondola, up the stairs, and a U-turn into the bulkhead marked Galley. And, uh…” He fidgeted, giving him a hug. Which caught Tinkertoy off guard more than anything else. “Seriously, I’m sorry.”

Luna was giving him an amused look, and Tinkertoy just patted him on the back. “It’s alright, I… I don’t know, I’ll buy you a drink later or something?” After another moment, Careful pulled back, and fidgeted with his hoof.

“Right. Um. Well, I guess we’ll see you there in about half an hour?” He grinned awkwardly, before darting down the hall, not waiting for an answer. Tinkertoy shook his head, and turned back into the room.

“Wonder what’s up with him.” Luna had moved to the small window on the other side of the cabin, and was peering out as if looking for something. She turned back to face him, smiling as she shook her head.

“Perhaps he was afraid of offending us? I hath noticed my sister has hardly left an amiable impression upon most ponies in my absence. Most would assume I would be similar, and I may hath given that impression ‘pon my visit to Ponyville…”

“Heh, yeah. Pinkie told me all about that, actually. She said how you started off all scary and such, but right after your arrival she and Ms. Sparkle explained the holiday in detail to you.”

“Indeed. Laughter and Magic were most helpful, and I am glad I managed not to do anything too scary. Fun has become such an abstract concept in my absence. Still, at one point, I was actually considering turning all of their rubber spiders into real ones. Silly, no?” She smiled at him, but frowned as Tinkertoy visibly cringed. “I apologize, did I say something off-putting?”

Tinkertoy suppressed one last shiver, before giving her an awkward smile. “Nothing much, just… I’ve a bit of a fear of spiders, you know? Never liked the little things, all hairy with their eyes and long legs and it’s just… something wrong about them. Bleh.” He stuck his tongue out, before shaking his head. “Anyway, sounds like we’ve got some sort of dinner to go to. Dinner on an airship. How’s that for a romantic idea?”

Luna beamed happily. “Indeed! It sounds most romantic, as long as we might freshen up first?”

“Whenever you’re ready!”

Roughly twenty minutes later, they had followed Careful’s directions, and were standing in front of the bulkhead. Luna had freshened up by brushing her coat almost immaculately, and after a little joking argument, dragging a comb through Tinkertoy’s mussed-up hair. She had, oddly enough, decided not to wear any of her princess regalia. Or rather, she hadn’t been wearing it since he’d woken up, and had decided not to put them back on.

Tinkertoy nosed open the bulkhead before them. “After you.” Luna smirked, before extending her wing over him again. “Come. We shalt enter together.” As they did so, a smattering of voices rang out around the galley, all shouting hellos, hi, and ahoy. The Captain in particular stood out, as he waved them over to the head of the table where he was sitting.

“Ah! Princess, Mr. Smith, glad you two could join us! Come, have some rum, or cider if that’s more to your taste. Sweet Apple Acres Cider, apparently, though how that got on board I’ll never know.” For the first time, Tinkertoy got a look at the eponymous Captain.

To say he was an imposing pony wouldn’t be quite right. He was an old Pinto-spotted Pegasus, with a rough brown beard and a blue sailor’s cap. He was well-built, with well-toned muscles from years of hard work making themselves evident even with his age, though his wings seemed to have atrophied without use. His Trottingham accent seemed to exude friendliness, almost as much as he did the smell of Hydrogen. A round blue crystal lens, worn like an eyepatch over his right eye, completed the image.

Around him, the mess hall seemed almost too large, but this was mainly because several of the long tables had been pressed together to make one long table, which he sat at the head of. He motioned to his left, where two chairs sat, empty. Two windows at either end showed a wide view of the night sky.

As Luna sat down at the chair closer to the Captain, Tinkertoy moved behind her, and shook the Captain’s hoof. “A pleasure to meet you, Captain…?”

“Aye, Skies. Crimson Skies, but some call me Stormy. What’s yours lad?”

“Smith, Tinkertoy Smith. And, of course, Luna. Or Princess Luna, I suppose.” Luna, after a moment of awkwardly looking at her own hoof, shook the Captain’s. “Luna is fine. Princess seems to be a title that many fear, nowadays.”

“Aye, perfectly understandable, lass. If ye be wantin’ to be called merely Luna, we’ll certainly oblige. Takes a little pressure off, actually. Ar, but where are me manners?” The Captain turned to a female Unicorn sitting on his right. “Spitshine, lass, pour ‘em a cider each!”

As Tinkertoy sat down next to Luna, he looked down the rest of the table, observing who he presumed to be most of the essential crew. Next to him was Careful Count, and behind him, Tinkertoy suppressed a shiver as he saw Dr. Scalpel, who caught the glance and tried to shrink into his seat. Past him was a plump white Unicorn with a paper nurse’s cap, who was taking large bites of a sweet roll. Across from him, next to Spitshine, was a Gryphon who looked him dead in the eyes, and smirked when he blinked. Down the rest of the table were other assorted crewmembers, but nothing else that really stood out.

Luna nudged him, motioning to a stein of cider in front of him. He hooked his hoof into the handle, and lifted it to look at the amber liquid inside. It fizzed, ever so slightly. Her voice caught his attention again. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ve… I don’t think I’ve ever actually drunk anything alcoholic before.”

“No? And thou art how many years of age?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Well, It has been over a millennia since I last had such a drink, myself. I believe I have forgotten what it was like, so it shall be a new experience for us both!”

Tinkertoy smiled, and clunked his stein to hers. “Bottom’s up, I guess.” And with that, he lifted the stein to his lips. A burning liquid instantly filled his mouth, and he swallowed out of pure surprise, coughing as  quite a bit of it went down the wrong tube.

“Holy –koff- crap! I –hack- wasn’t –wheeze- expecting that!” Cheers and laughter filled the hall, and Luna clapped her hoof on his back, which helped immensely. She giggled to herself, before taking a much smaller sip of her own. She blinked, before bringing it back to her mouth and taking a much larger swig, shotgunning the whole stein.

“Mmm! This cider, I enjoy it! Another!” The stein levitated back to Spitshine, who filled both of them, and back to their respective owners. With a little more prodding from Luna and the crew, Tinkertoy drank some more.

After that, really, the rest of the night was kind of a blur.

Broken images filtered through his mind, scenes of the party. In one, he was throwing darts, and failing miserably.

In another, he was talking to Dr. Scalpel, who was… apologizing? Yes, something like that, about how a Pegasus doctor would have trouble manipulating the medical tools and the crew liked to play pranks on him and his patients because of that. He was actually a perfectly decent pony.

No, he’d definitely been drunk and hallucinating that.

In another, he was holding a jar (Was that Sparky’s jar?) and handing it to Spitshine, who was gazing at it with wonder.

The he and Luna were building something, and then the Gryphon was carrying them back to their room, and then his memory failed him.

Bedsheets, once again. Normal bedsheets, thankfully. Very definitely not hospital bedsheets. And they were so warm and comforting…. He snuggled into them a little bit more. They were almost perfect. Almost. Not the fact that, at some point, he had to get up, mind you. He didn’t mind that, and it was going to suck, but he could put that out of his mind.

No, he reflected, cracking his right eye open against his so-warm sheets, it was the fact that- augh! Light! It burned! His eye snapped closed again.

So, this must be what being hungover felt like. He hadn’t realized he had such a massive headache until the light had made it oh-so-worse. He brought his hoof up to his face, to try and cover his eyes, but it was blocked by something. Which, he slowly realized, wasn’t actually a blanket.

Again, he cracked open his eye, carefully now. Blue. All he could see was blue. And a few strands of a…starry mane…

Oh. Oh! Oh crap.

Well, they were moving very quickly now.

There was going to be trouble when they woke up, that much he could see. At least from the position they were in, with Tinkertoy still lying between Luna’s hind legs, facing her barrel.

Well, the bed was perfect now. He could at least have that, before she woke up and freaked out. Might as well enjoy it while he could. He snuggled a little closer, and lost himself in her fur. It had the most beautiful smell, like mint and peaches mixed together…