In order to reach Burnside, I had to travel through the main part of Vanhoover. The only way to reach it from West Vanhoover was to head back the way I’d come, or cross a bridge not far from my location. The bridge was there on my PipBuck’s map, which meant it had been there during the War a century and a half ago; however, there was no guarantee it was still standing today.

As I approached the bridge from the north (now labeled Manticore’s Gateway on my PipBuck’s map), I was happy to see that it still seemed mostly intact. It was also fairly clear; it looked like somepony had removed the auto-carriages from the road and pushed them onto the river’s north bank. The only vehicles that remained on the bridge were two trucks painted the same Equestrian Army green as Jolly about two-thirds of the way across the bridge.

I scrambled to draw my hunting rifle as a red light appeared on my EFS just moments before a creature flew out from under the bridge less than a hundred paces ahead of me. It had the body of a lion, the tail of a scorpion, and the wings of a bat—a manticore. The manticore gave a roar as it spotted me, and flapped higher in preparation to dive. As it reached the apex of its climb, the manticore was suddenly shot in the chest and fell from the sky, bouncing off the bridge’s suspension before dropping to the irradiated river below. Trying to determine where the shot had come from, I turned my attention back to the far end of the bridge.

In front of the trucks was a series of concrete barricades, but I couldn’t see much more with the naked eye. Once I had my binoculars out, I was able to get a much better look at the situation. Behind the barricades, armed ponies were trotting back and forth, and a few were positioned on heavy rifles; that was where the shot that had taken out the manticore had to have come from. Each pony was wearing a mostly complete set of combat barding similar to what I’d seen in Bunker 519. The only noticeable difference from the Equestrian Army combat barding was that these ponies’ armor was painted black instead of green. They didn’t look like raiders (there were no grotesquely splayed pony cadavers to be seen), but that didn’t necessarily mean that they weren’t some new better-equipped version of raiders I hadn’t encountered yet, or even slavers. They hadn’t tried to kill me yet (I knew they could, given how easily they’d taken out that manticore), and seemed content to stay where they were, so I approached them cautiously.

The river separating West Vanhoover from Vanhoover was by no means narrow, and it was a long walk across the Manticore’s Gateway. The whole way across I was praying that I wouldn’t be shot, and fortunately my prayers were answered. A few of the armored ponies noticed me as I got closer and watched my approach. In addition to the high-powered rifles behind the barricades, there were miniguns mounted on top of the trucks, and a few of the armored ponies trotted around back and climbed up to attend them. I became nervous when they started tracking me with the barrels, but kept going anyway. They hadn’t killed me yet, so they probably wouldn’t as long as I didn’t give them a reason to, right?

“Hold it!” a pony with an orange coat and a short-cropped crimson mane ordered with a raised hoof as I got within ten paces of the barricades.

“Now, don’t make any sudden moves,” she said as she trotted out to me.

Given that I currently had two miniguns, a high-powered rifle, a shotgun, and two submachineguns pointed at me, I really had no other choice but to comply with her orders. I also noticed that there were mines placed on the edge of the bridge, in case anypony got the bright idea to try to jump around the barricades or leap from the bridge and brave the last stretch of water to the southern shore. The armored pony inspected my weapons before flipping open my saddlebags and looking through them, shifting things around with her hoof.

“Nothing suspicious; he’s clean,” the mare announced, and all but two of the ponies ahead of me lowered their guns.

“So, you’re looking to cross over to Vanhoover proper?” she asked as she trotted around to stand in front of me.

“Um, yes, I guess so,” I answered, “What is this?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” the mare said firmly, “It’ll cost you two hundred caps to cross, an additional fifty if you want a pass for the Strip.”

“The Strip?” I asked, confused, “What’s going on? Who are you ponies?”

“I take it you’ve never heard of the Crimson Tide,” the mare said after sighing and rolling her eyes.

Now that I was closer to them, I realized that all the armored ponies had the same emblem painted on the shoulder piece of their armor—a red wave. Interestingly, the emblem was painted within a gear-shaped indentation identical to the Stable-Tec logo’s silhouette. I could spin explanations all day, but the mare had asked me a question, and I shook my head no in response.

“We’re the main mercenary group in this region, and the best in Vanhoover,” the mare said proudly, “We even run our own settlement that anypony can join: The Strip. As for those of us here, we’re in charge of this checkpoint to make sure none of the filth from the north bank of the river spills over here. We’ve got enough problems in the city as is without more walking across the bridge. We’re also the reason our company has the name it does; when a lot of ponies try to rush the bridge and we gun them down, the river turns red.”

“Okay; since you haven’t shot me yet, you must not think I’m filth, so why do I need to pay you to cross the bridge?” I asked.

“Checking your saddlebags to make sure you weren’t a raider, slaver, or junkie may have kept us from shooting you, but it’s not going to get you across the bridge,” the mare said with a smirk, “We don’t want just anypony coming across, and we provide a valuable service here. We are mercenaries, after all; don’t expect us to do this out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“It still seems like a lot just to cross the bridge. You said there are still problems in the city, so it’s not like I’m paying to enter a safe place, right?” I said.

“You don’t have the caps, you don’t cross. It’s as simple as that,” the mare said stubbornly, though to be honest, it probably wasn’t up to her.

“Corporal Sky Dust,” a moss green unicorn called out from behind the barricades before I could tell the mare I didn’t have enough caps to pay the toll, “May I?”

“Of course, Lieutenant Havok, sir!” Sky Dust said with gusto as she made a rapid turn and salute.

“Now, judging by your armaments, it looks like you’ve been in your fair share of sticky situations on the north bank, am I right?” Lieutenant Havok asked as he trotted toward me, trading places with Sky Dust.

“I suppose you could say that,” I replied, though I really didn’t want to think about some of those “sticky situations.”

“I thought so. How would you like to make a deal? If you help us out with something, we’ll let you pass. Hay, I’ll even sign a pass for the Strip for you. What do you say?”

“Well, I guess it would depend on the job,” I said, going over pros and cons in my mind, “What would I have to do?”

“The Corporal already told you of our mission here, so you’d know how disastrous it would be if somepony found another way across the river,” Havok said as he wrapped an armored foreleg around me, and spun me around to face northwest and passed me a pair of binoculars, “Tell me what you see out there.”

It took me a minute to find it, but when I did, it was obvious what Lieutenant Havok’s concern was. Not too far down the north shoreline was a small marina with mostly intact docks. Moored at one of those docks was the only boat around that hadn’t sank to the bottom of the river. I thought I saw a few ponies moving around it, but the angle made it hard to tell if they were real or imaginary.

“The boat?” I asked Havok, fairly confident that I was right.

“That’s an old ferry, and we’ve been watching the ponies there restore it. If they do so, our checkpoint here is worthless. They could land ponies anywhere along the shoreline, and we’d never be able to get there in time to stop it,” Lieutenant Havok explained more in detail what I’d already mostly figured out on my own, “They’re out of our range, we can’t abandon our post here, and the higher-ups don’t think it’s a threat, so we need somepony else to take care of this matter for us. That’s where you come in. That ferry must never be allowed to leave port again.”

“So, what do you want me to do exactly? Kill the ponies there?” I said with unease, “No offense, but I’m not a mercenary. I’m not going to kill ponies just because I’ll get something out of it.”

“I’m not asking you to kill them. Just remove the ferry from the picture, that’s all,” Havok said, and I couldn’t really tell if my jab at mercenaries had affected him at all.

“Say I get there, and I find that the ferry is in perfect working condition,” I said, “What’s to stop me from taking it across myself?”

“Well, I can think of four things,” Havok said, much faster than I’d expect somepony to come up with four good reasons for me not to cross them, “First, I don’t think you’re the kind of pony that would go back on a deal like that. Second, that gets you across, but it doesn’t get you into the Strip, where you’ll want to stop if you plan to resupply before moving on to wherever you’re headed. Third, we’ll know you’ve crossed us, and every Crimson Tide member will have your description and the promise of a bounty to motivate them to take your life. And finally, we could let the Steel Rangers know where you are.”

“Yes, you’re probably wondering why we haven’t done that already,” Havok said when he saw mentioning the Steel Rangers had made me go pale, “Well, we mercenaries do love caps, but us Crimson Tide members hate the Steel Rangers too much to help them out, even for the sizable bounty on your head. That might change if you betray us.”

“Why do you hate the Steel Rangers?” I asked.

“I don’t have time to give you a history lesson right now; that’s not my specialty anyway. If you really want to know, ask Colonel Jumper when you get to the Strip,” Havok said as he turned around and began to walk back to the barricades, “Now, you’d best be on your way to deal with that ferry.”

I stood there for a minute, considering whether to comply with the mercenaries’ demands or try to trek back all the way to where I’d started at Stable 85. In the end, I concluded that I should at least take a look at the ferry before I made a final decision, and I turned around and walked the long span of the Manticore’s Gateway.

Raiders. The marina was full of them. The good news was that if I had to kill anypony to disable the ferry, at least I wouldn’t feel guilty about it. The bad news was that there were so many raiders here that just getting to the ferry seemed an impossible task. The marina’s buildings made it hard to get a good estimate, so I tried to get a little closer, both so that I could get a visual count and so that my EFS could tell me how many were close to me.

I should have been paying closer attention to my surroundings as I advanced, because it wasn’t until I was right next to it that I noticed the land mine in the path. I froze as I anticipated it going off, but nothing happened. Curious—but meanwhile knowing it was probably a bad idea—I got closer to the mine. Still it didn’t begin flashing even when I picked it up. Examining it revealed that it hadn’t been activated. Either these raiders had made a crucial oversight, or they’d had members accidently step on the mines one too many times. Either way, I now had a mine and an idea of what to do with it.

The raiders’ camp was entirely confined to the marina, and they foolishly had no sentries or scouts any farther out, so I was able to easily make my way to the western side by crossing over to the next street. The ferry was on the complete opposite end of the marina, so I figured that if I could cause a distraction here, then I could draw enough raiders away to make it to the boat. After that, I’d have to figure out what to do next on the spot. Maybe I could just unmoor it and let if float away?

Celestia was smiling upon me today, as the western end of the marina also happened to be where the tanks were for fueling up the boats. The Stable-dweller’s Survival Guide had helped me build a bomb to destroy the weapons at North Bank, so I figured it ought to be helpful to check here too. To make a bomb I only needed a few more components, which were easily found in the surrounding houses. Soon I had my improvised explosive device attached to the fuel tanks and set the alarm on the clock attached to it for five minutes, more than enough time for me to travel back to the east side of the marina.

There must have been more fuel left in the tanks than I’d thought, because when the bomb went off, a huge fireball went up on the other side of the marina. Accompanied by a slew of colorful curses, the raiders between me and the ferry took off to see what had happened. I couldn’t believe my good luck; literally all of the raiders in the camp ran off to inspect the exploded fuel tanks.

Keeping a close eye on my EFS in case there was actually somepony who didn’t run toward the gigantic fireball, I made my way past the marina buildings, fire pits, and grisly torture devices. Until I reached the docks, I was fairly shielded from view in case any of the raiders looked back, but it was an open stretch to the ferry, and I’d have no way out if I was caught over the water. I made extra sure there was nopony that could see me before I galloped over the sagging wooden planks covered in patches of reclaimed wood and sheet metal. Once I was on the ferry, I allowed myself to catch my breath.

The Crimson Tide members were right to fear this ferry. From what I could see, it looked completely repaired (if haphazardly) and ready to go. This ferry was a steamer, and though everything looked to be in working order, the coal compartment was pretty bare. Once they started it up, they wouldn’t be able to take very many trips. Perhaps they intended to all cross the river at once and stay on the other side?

When I stepped down inside the ferry, I discovered their true intentions. The hull was stuffed with explosives of every kind, all wired up in an elaborate pattern. Among these raiders, one of them was a genius at building bombs, and I feared what it was they planned to blow up with this. A chart of the marina and the surrounding area tacked to a block of plastic explosives provided the answer: the Manticore’s Gateway. They weren’t trying to cross the river; they wanted to keep anypony from ever crossing the river here again. As expected, the bombs were all wired into a timer (apparently none of these raiders fancied suicide), and I was easily able to reset it.

I had already spent too much time here, and I feared the raiders would soon figure out that the explosion was a distraction and not an attack, so I got out of the ferry as fast as I could. I was galloping across the docks and halfway back to land when a bullet hit the post next to me. The raiders were beginning to come back, and one had already spotted me. Thanks to his angry shouting, the others soon did too. I tried to cross the rest of the docks, but I didn’t make it very far before fire pinned me down. I was only moderately safe staying put where I was because of a yacht that had sunk and become lodged with its bow sticking up in the air, but I couldn’t stay here forever.

Then the ferry exploded. The shooting from the raiders ceased almost immediately, but that was the least of my worries. The dock behind me was turned into splinters, and the section I was crouching on was torn up and thrown through the air. I felt the wave of heat hit me (but thankfully no flames), before I plummeted into the water. I was carried along, flipping head over hooves in a wave, until I washed up on the shore. My PipBuck was chiming at me, warning me that I’d taken a very unsafe dose of radiation, but it was still low enough that a bullet would kill me more quickly, so I prioritized and ran away.

It wasn’t until I was far enough away to be sure no raiders were following me that I fished the nasty-tasting packets of RadAway out of my sopping wet saddlebags and choked them down. Though there were a few trees and houses in the way of observing the marina from my current position, I could still admire my handiwork. The ferry had been reduced to nothing more than broken pieces of refuse spreading out in the murky waters. The section of docks it had been moored to were completely gone, and the wave from the explosion had swamped several of the marina’s buildings and pulled some of the raiders’ possessions out into the river. I thought I was crazy at first, but with my binoculars I confirmed that there were indeed raiders swimming around in the water trying to retrieve the things they’d lost. They were in for a nasty surprise if they didn’t have sufficient RadAway on hoof, but that wasn’t my problem. Perhaps it was best that I hadn’t spent too much time at the marina, else I might’ve found out just how crazy these raiders were. They were crazy enough to go swimming in highly irradiated water and try to blow up a bridge using a ferry, so who knew what else they could have been up to? If I made it across the Manticore’s Gateway, I’d thankfully never have to worry about it.

“You’re certainly a flashy one, aren’t you?” Havok asked as I approached the barricade on the Manticore’s Gateway.

“What do you mean?” I asked as I stopped at the same distance away as before. I had no doubt that, despite my aid, the mercenaries pointing guns at me would still fire if I got too close.

“Two explosions?” the stallion asked, giving me a look as he trotted out to meet me, “I want to know how you managed to destroy the ferry so fast. You didn’t have any heavy munitions on you when Sky Dust examined your saddlebags, and you weren’t in the ferry for very long, so how did you manage to blow it up the way you did?”

“That ferry was already filled with explosives and ready to set sail. It looked like the raiders were preparing to blow up this bridge,” I explained.

“Really?” Havok said, looking concerned, “Well, that’s certainly out-of-the-box thinking for them. I guess they were getting tired of getting massacred every time they tried to cross.”

“Speaking of crossing …” I said.

“Right, of course,” Havok said as he motioned for the mercenaries to stand, and waved me to follow him back through the barricades, “I’d say you’ve more than earned the right to cross over into Manehattan proper and visit the Strip.”

The rest of the Crimson Tide members kept an eye on me as I followed Havok around behind the trucks, but no longer kept their weapons trained on me, so I took that as a sign that I could at least move about freely. I didn’t feel I should follow Havok into the trailer when he stepped inside, due to the armed pony at the door who raised her shotgun after her commander passed. After a minute, Havok stepped out of the trailer holding a beaten-up clipboard and pen.

“Let’s see here,” the lieutenant said as he filled out the form attached to the clipboard, “Unicorn stallion of average build. Gray coat and white mane with blue highlight. Name?”

“Doc,” I said. Sure, I still didn’t know what my name had been before I’d woken up in Stable 85, but I was becoming more accustomed to telling ponies my new one.

“Well, that’ll be easy to remember, at least,” Havok said as he looked me up and down before signing the form and passing it to me, “That’ll get you into the Strip, and should keep you out of trouble with any Crimson Tide members you run into.”

“Thanks,” I said as I folded up the form and tucked it into my saddlebags next to my maps and list of Equestrian Army passwords; they were dry now, but I had to find something to store my items susceptible to water damage inside in case I ever fell in the water again, “How do I get to the Strip?”

“Just keep following this road as it curves east. The Crimson Tide patrols it fairly regularly, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble, but keep an eye out just in case. We can’t be everywhere.”

I thanked Havok and headed down the last third of the Manticore’s Gateway, which I supposed also marked the completion of one major step on my way to Burnside.

I expected to enter the city as soon as I crossed the Manticore’s Gateway, but instead I ended up in a park that looked not much better than the forest on the north bank of the river. The trees were dead, and had been for years, but at least the densely packed buildings to the east had shielded them from the initial blast better than others I’d seen. It was still a bit creepy walking through a dead forest, and I was glad when I finally emerged from it.

The city didn’t curb my unease, though. I kept a close eye on my EFS as I trotted between the skyscrapers and kept the clasp over my pistol undone. The buildings made it easy for somepony to sneak up on me before I even saw them, and out here in the Wasteland that was a life-threatening risk. Every so often I spotted a red wave painted on a wall, as if to proclaim that the Crimson Tide was in charge. They certainly acted like they were, though the very mention that they had enough problems with scum on this side of the river made me doubt that. I also doubted that those problems could ever be truly eradicated. If they could cordon off the entire area and restrict access, that would be one thing, but there were other ways into downtown Vanhoover than across the Manticore’s Gateway, and there was no way the Crimson Tide could control them all.

As if to prove I was right, a bullet flew past my head and struck an auto-carriage I’d passed a second earlier. As my EFS lit up with red lights, I retreated behind the wrecked vehicle and evaluated the situation. Lying on my belly, I peeked under the auto-carriage with my binoculars and spotted the pony who’d shot at me. A mare wearing scrap metal armor had a hunting rifle mounted on the second level of a parking structure on the right side of the road. Two more raiders trotted out of the lower level and looked around for me, shouting up at the mare for directions.

According to my EFS, there were twenty-two raiders holed up in the parking structure, more than I could take out on my own with my current arms. Looking back, I saw that the closest side streets were barricaded by buses with the Crimson Tide symbol painted on them, probably an attempt to keep raiders off this road that had backfired. I couldn’t retreat, and if I tried to advance, the mare would probably shoot me. However, if I stayed put and her raider friends reached me, I’d be just as dead. In the confusion of the moment, I considered that maybe the Crimson Tide was just a raider gang, after all, and they had sent me into a trap, but that didn’t make any real sense. They could have just as easily shot me on the bridge, so why send me into the city?

I put my binoculars away as one of the raiders started firing his submachinegun at the auto-carriage. I had to think of something, and fast. I still had two metal apples in my saddlebags, and I pulled one out as the raiders halted on the other side of the auto-carriage. As one of them climbed up on top, I pulled the pin and rolled it across. Jumping back, I entered SATS and pulled my pistol on the raider clambering over the auto-carriage. The metal apple exploded in slow motion, turning one raider to pulp and shaking the auto-carriage enough that the other lost his balance. Before the spell ran out, I fired six times at the raider’s head … and missed every time. As the world jolted back to normal speed, I fired once more and managed to land a shot though his forehead, killing him instantly.

As soon as the raider was down, I sprinted to a nearby postbox and crouched behind it as the mare in the parking structure fired at me. Her weapon appeared to be nearly identical to my version and I knew its specifications, so I waited for her clip to run out before galloping to an overturned vending machine farther down the street. To my surprise, it was a vending machine that sold ammunition (it had been completely looted, of course), which made me wonder just how ideal life during the War had really been. Surely it was better than this, though, right?

Three more raiders had made their way down now and were firing at me. Apparently they didn’t know I had a PipBuck, or they hadn’t heard the news. As one of their bullets glanced off my helmet, I was grateful I’d picked it up in Bunker 519. I still had a decent supply of ammunition for it, so I propped my magical energy rifle up on the vending machine and fired without looking. The sizzle of burning flesh and a string of curses confirmed I’d wounded at least one of them.

Leaving my magical energy rifle on top of the vending machine, I levitated my hunting rifle next to it and entered SATS once I’d crawled far enough to see what I was shooting at. One of the raiders was clutching at her foreleg, probably where my magical energy rifle had hit, so I ignored her and focused on the other two raiders. My first two shots were targeted at the chest of a raider with a rifle, and the other two at the legs of a raider who had a pistol gripped in her teeth. My first shot hit and the first raider went down, and both my third and fourth were also successful, sending the second raider tripping over her wounded legs.

I crawled back behind the vending machine as the mare in the parking structure caught on and fired at me, nearly hitting my hunting rifle before I pulled it back with me. The raider whose legs I’d wounded pounced at me over the vending machine with an animal rage, taking me by surprise. I had just enough time to retrieve my magical energy rifle, and I used the weapon as a makeshift bat to smack the mare in the jaw. As she fell to the ground behind the vending machine with me, I spun the rifle around and fired it at her until she turned into glowing pink dust.

When the mare with the hunting rifle ran out again, I jumped over the vending machine and galloped toward the parking structure. The wounded mare in the street tried to grab me as I ran past, but I fired my pistol at her; one of the shots must have hit, because she stopped cursing at me. I entered the parking structure, halting just inside and raising my magical energy rifle as I scanned the area for more raiders. Not seeing any, I looked at my immediate surroundings, searching for a way out of here.

There were seventeen raiders left, and I desperately wanted to leave, but I couldn’t as long as the mare above me was still there. Looking at the sorry state of the guard post at the front, I quickly came up with an idea. There was more than enough booze, rags, and cigarette lighters for me to fashion a Maretov cocktail. Hoping the mare up top hadn’t moved, I lit the rag and threw it up as hard as I could. When I heard a scream, I galloped away down the road; since I wasn’t shot at, the Maretov cocktail must have done its job.

It didn’t take long before the remaining sixteen red lights on my EFS disappeared. I didn’t let up on the pace much, though. Just in case the raiders decided they wanted to follow me, I needed to stay ahead. I had certainly pruned their numbers, but I was still not prepared to face a full gang of the raiders alone in a straight-up fight when I had no reason to.

The Strip. I really didn’t know what to expect, since both settlements I’d visited in my time outside Stable 85 had been radically different. The Strip was yet another new experience, which I should have expected since it was the first urban settlement I’d encountered. The Strip was entirely enclosed along one street, and it stretched two city blocks. Each street leading to it was walled off with concrete blocks topped with razor wire and patrolled constantly by Crimson Tide mercenaries. The only gates were on the east and west ends of the Strip, and were heavily guarded by sets of barricades and fences.

“Stop right there,” a Crimson Tide member ordered as I approached the west gate, “Papers?”

Digging in my saddlebags, I pulled out the signed form Lieutenant Havok had given me and passed it over. As the mercenary looked it over, I realized how odd it was that such a thing even existed in the Wasteland. The form hadn’t been sketched out and the text was too precise to have been written, so what level of technology did the Crimson Tide have that they could print such detailed documents?

“Everything appears to be in order. Welcome to the Strip,” the mercenary said as he passed the form back to me.

Another mercenary opened a door in the fence, and I stepped through before walking past the barricades to the gate in the concrete wall. One side of it swung open just enough to let me though before it was pulled shut again. As it clanged shut behind me, I got my first real look at the Strip.

Other than two skyscrapers, all the buildings that adjoined the Strip were under six stories tall, and they all seemed to have shops on the bottom one or two floors with living areas up top. The Strip wasn’t necessarily hopping with activity, but it did seem that there were plenty of ponies here conducting business. As I trotted down the street, looking at different shops, I spotted a few guarded caravan carts outside. Everywhere I went, Crimson Tide mercenaries were patrolling.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find-” I started to ask one as he trotted past.

“Do I look like a tour guide to you?” the mercenary cut me off snappily, “I’m on duty; ask somepony else to show you around, newcomer.”

What was that all about? I thought as the mercenary trotted away. Sure, he had been patrolling, so I understood if he couldn’t help me out, but he didn’t have to be so unpleasant about it. I supposed I could find all the businesses I needed to on my own, but I didn’t know how I was going to find Colonel Jumper to follow up on my questions about the Crimson Tide and the Steel Rangers unless somepony else gave me directions.

“Sorry about that,” a yellow-coated mare with a curly bronze mane said as she approached me from behind, “Not everypony here is on board with the idea of trying to invite new ponies into the Strip.”

“Why not?” I asked, “It seems like the best way to grow, and it’s not like just anypony can get in.”

“Usually it’s because they’re members of the founding families, those that were with the Crimson Tide back before it was called the Crimson Tide,” the mare explained, “Their families put in the work to build and protect the Strip and secure the area, and they want to keep control of it.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I said, “But they can’t just isolate themselves.”

“That’s what the Stables do,” the mare replied with a shrug, “Though I’m guessing yours decided not to. Which one are you from?”

“Stable 85, though I’m the only one I know of that left. What about you?” I asked, even though I could clearly see the “50” emblazoned on the back of her Stable security barding.

“Oh, I’m not actually from a Stable. This is just my Crimson Tide uniform,” the mare said.

“Why a Stable 50 jumpsuit and security barding?” I asked.

“Well, you certainly have a lot of questions, don’t you?” the mercenary asked, “Though, if I recall, you were trying to get directions to something.”

“Really I just want to know where I can resupply and get a weapon fixed,” I said.

“Come on, then; I’ll show you around,” the mare said with a jerk of her head.

Sage—as I later learned she was named—led me through the Strip’s many shops, helping me find where I could get the best prices. My bottle cap supply was still significantly depleted after my shopping trip, but I’d exchanged the lost caps for a healthy supply of food and ammunition, as well as RadAway to replace what I’d lost after my unplanned swim. The largest bite out of my funds was the fee to get Meadowsweet’s sniper rifle repaired, but I had neither the skill nor the parts to do it myself, and Sage assured me that the pony I left it with was a master. She concluded the tour of the town with a stop at a restaurant, where I was able to get a bottle of Sparkle~Cola while she answered questions I had about the Strip and Radio Free Wasteland played in the background.

“Good afternoon, child~ren!” DJ Pon3’s voice cut in during our conversation, “After a regrettably unexpected absence, I have returned to tell you the news of the Wasteland and lift your spirits with tales of the good fight. I have a special story for you today. Many of you in Vanhoover have probably heard the broadcasts the Steel Rangers have been blasting over the airwaves. Now, I’ve been cautiously optimistic about the Steel Rangers turning a corner, but I think that they’ve proved nothing has really changed with this broadcast. Offering a bounty on another pony is low, even for them. You may wonder why the bounty is going up recently when it remained steady for so long. Are they desperate? No, the truth is that they have found a pony with a PipBuck and are hunting him down. Yet, he has managed to evade them at every turn, and on top of that freed some very grateful ponies from a slaver camp in West Vanhoover yesterday. I implore you, ponies of the Wasteland, those who fight the good fight and don’t believe the lies of those who oppose us, be they slavers, pegasi, or Steel Rangers, if you see a pony in a yellow doctor’s coat passing through, lend him a hoof. He’s fighting the good fight, and he could use all the help he can get. Now, on to the weather! It’s going to be clouds, clouds, and more clouds, unless the pegasi finally pull their heads out of their …”

“Unless there’s some other fool in a yellow doctor’s coat running around, I assume DJ Pon3 was just talking about you,” Sage observed slyly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, “I don’t know how he found out about it so soon, though.”

“DJ has his ways. That stallion always seems to know everything before anypony else does. Personally, I think he spies on everypony using some surveillance system left behind by the Wartime Equestrian government that was never found,” Sage said between sips of Sparkle~Cola.

Perhaps that was true; if so, maybe he could access any camera anywhere. Could it have been DJ Pon3 that contacted me back in Stable 57? I suppose it was a possibility, since the mysterious pony had said he’d been observing me since I’d left Stable 85, and that seemed to be what DJ Pon3 did.

“Also, good one on screwing over the Steel Rangers,” Sage said, “Too many ponies are forgetting what they really stand for.”

“I have a personal reason to dislike the Steel Rangers,” I said as I lifted my foreleg with the PipBuck, “But why does the Crimson Tide hate them so much?”

“That’s a very long story,” Sage replied, “Really, you have to go back to the beginning, before the Crimson Tide was even started. It all began in Stable 50, not long after the megaspells fell. It wasn’t long after the Stable door slammed shut that problems started to crop up. All the problems could be traced back to the inept Overmare, so with the backing of the Stable’s security force, a new Overmare was put in place. She didn’t last long either, though, proving even more corrupt and terrible than the old one, so the security force staged a coup d’état against her as well and officially took over the Stable. The Overmare was replaced by a Colonel who headed the security force and managed the Stable with a military government. Over time, the Stable’s population grew, the door was opened, and they began to spread out into the wastes, settling and taking on jobs as mercenaries. The mercenary group changed names and leaders through several more coup d’états over time, but it remained the same military-minded group based out of Stable 50.

“Stable 50 had an above average equipment supply, and we were also able to scavenge weapons and supplies from a military depot here on the Strip. The Steel Rangers think themselves the guardians of higher technology, which means nopony but them is allowed to have it. They especially didn’t like the fact that we had power armor and anti-machine rifles that would able to punch through the same armor they wear. So, they launched an attack on Stable 50, killed everypony there, carried off everything of value, and destroyed everything else. We moved our headquarters to the Strip, and that’s where we’ve been ever since. The Steel Rangers mostly leave us alone now, unless they catch our patrols out alone without the appropriate firepower to deter power armored ponies. I don’t think they’re crazy enough to ever attack the Strip directly, with all the precautions we’ve taken to make such an attack a suicide mission, but you never know.”

“You certainly seem to know a lot about this,” I commented, not minding at all that Sage had given me a history lesson on the Crimson Tide.

“I should; it is part of my job as the Crimson Tide’s historian and pressmare,” Sage said.

“Pressmare? What’s that?”

“I’m in charge of printing up the Strip’s newspaper, as well as any documents and forms the upper echelon needs,” Sage explained, “The printing press we’ve got is nice enough that all I really need to do is collect and compile information and let the machine do the rest.”

“Are there many working printing presses in the Wasteland?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t annoying Sage with all my questions.

“We’ve got the only one in Vanhoover, as far as I know,” Sage said, “We really lucked out that we found one perfectly preserved in a military lockup; the megaspells couldn’t even touch it. Would you like to see it?”

“Actually, I would,” I said. I wanted to know everything there was to know about this place. I was really starting to like it here, and if Burnside didn’t work out, I might consider coming back to the Strip.

“Let’s go, then,” Sage said as she rose from the table, “We can pick up your gun on the way; it’s probably finished by now.”

Though the entire Strip was controlled by the Crimson Tide, their operations were all based out of a single building, one of the two skyscrapers I’d seen coming in. Only the lower twelve floors had been reclaimed, but that was more than enough space until the Crimson Tide grew more, especially since there were five basements occupied by them as well. I understood why the mercenaries had chosen this building as their headquarters; the bottom two floors and all the basements had once been property of the Equestrian Army, so it was perfectly suited for military-minded ponies.

Sage’s workspace was on the second sublevel, pretty well isolated except for a few desks on the other side of the floor. The level had once been a military lockup, where the Equestrian Army had taken anything dangerous and locked it within the chain-link cages that stretched in all directions. Some of the cages were now empty, looted by the Crimson Tide or those before them for valuables, but many of them still contained their contraband. The area that Sage had made her own had a lot of books caged up, and all the cages had a plastic tag tied to them bearing an identical symbol. The icon was simplistic and elegant at the same time, and the letters “MI” were centered in it. I remembered seeing such a symbol back in the bus station above Stable 85, but what Ministry had been abbreviated MI?

“Here it is,” Sage presented the printing press to me.

The machine was massive, taking up a whole cage. Thick power cables trailed across the floor from it, I assumed on their way to the building’s microspark reactor. Gigantic hoses were fastened to the ceiling to help vent the heat the machine’s generated heat outside. The adjacent cage was filled with barrels of replacement ink and stacks of paper. It was as if this place had been designed for the work Sage was doing.

“Where did it come from?” I asked the mare as I turned around after admiring the machine.

“We don’t know,” she admitted, “The lockup didn’t appear to have any physical records when we got here, and we weren’t able to get into the record terminal to find anything out either. The doors are all locked electronically too, without physical keys, so we had to cut the fences to get into the cages.”

“I could take a look at the terminal if you’d like. I’ve gotten pretty good at breaking into them since I’ve been out in the Wasteland,” I offered.

“Go ahead; nopony else has been able to, but none of them were that great with terminals to begin with,” Sage said.

The terminal in question was mounted to a post close to eye level. A series of numbers were printed on the side, which seemed to correspond to the numbers of the surrounding cages, most likely those this terminal had access to information on. Upon booting it up, I was given a warning that enough incorrect logins had occurred that another failure would not only lock me out of the system, but erase the information I was looking for. I’d have to get it right the first time. It was a difficult system to crack, but not nearly as bad as Flim and Flam’s secret accounts. I was able to retrieve the password and log in, but only within a few seconds of being locked out.

“I’m in!” I said triumphantly as welcome text scrolled across the screen, “Which cage is the printing press in?”

“Forty-three,” Sage answered as she crowded in next to me.

I located the appropriate entry and read aloud as I perused it.

Lockup 43
Latest Change: 09.14.1350
Possession: Ministry of Image
Report: The Vanhoover Crier has been seized by the Ministry of Image for attempting to publish an article in violation of MI censor. The company’s assets have been seized by the MI, and the main printing press and its supplies will be stored here. Writer responsible has been confirmed as a zebra sympathizer and has been taken into custody by Ministry of Morale agents for questioning at their Vanhoover hub.

The Ministry of Image. I was beginning to remember. In Stable 85 they had been the Whites, and they had sided with the Pinks to help take over the Stable, so it was really no surprise to find the MI and MoM working together in Wartime Equestria. The report had been very vague, though, and I was hungering for more information. What had the writer at the Vanhoover Crier tried to publish that had gotten them convicted as a zebra sympathizer and led to their entire company being shut down and taken over by the Ministry of Image? Had they really done anything, or was it just an excuse for the Ministry of Morale to seize power?

“Where’s the Ministry of Morale’s Vanhoover hub?” I asked Sage, a feeling growing in my gut that I was going to regret looking into anything involving the Pinks.

“It’s on the same road as the Strip, about halfway between here and Stable 50,” Sage said, giving me a strange look.

“That’s perfect; I can visit both of them,” I said.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on exploring those ruins alone,” Sage said with concern, “I’m interested in what happened in the past too, but it’s dangerous to go rooting through old buildings, especially if they’re former Ministry buildings. There are raiders and irradiated creatures, not to mention the fact that it’s impossible to confirm the building is structurally sound. Besides, you can probably forget about Stable 50. The Steel Rangers really did a number on the place when they attacked.”

“I have to at least take a look,” I said, “They may had done their worst to the Stable, but the maneframes could have survived. I visited Stable 57 in West Vanhoover, and I found proof that Stable-Tec was pulling the strings behind what went on the whole time there. Maybe Stable 50 was manipulated too. Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“I don’t know. We’ve kept pretty good track of our history,” Sage said as she bit her lip and looked contemplative, “Then again, you really are good at breaking into terminals, and if there’s anypony who could find out the truth, it would probably be you. Alright, I’ll do it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I can’t let you go alone, especially into the Stable my ancestors came from, so I’m coming along,” Sage said firmly.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said nervously, “Since I left Stable 85, all my companions have ended up dead.”

“Then I think it’s time to break that unlucky streak,” Sage said as she trotted past me, “Don’t worry about me; I may spend most of my time here in the Strip, but I’m still a fully trained member of the Crimson Tide.”

“But-”

“No buts; my mind is made up,” Sage said as she swatted me with her tail, “I’d better get all my work for tomorrow done tonight. I’ll see you at the east gate in the morning; now shoo!”

I spent the night in one of the Strip’s inns (the one pointed out by Sage as the best) and met the mare at the east gate at dawn as she’d said to. I supposed I could have tried to avoid traveling with her, but she was my only friend at the Strip, and I didn’t want to risk it. I also had the feeling she’d track me down if I tried to leave without her.

The trip was actually quite enjoyable (and rather uneventful). Sage and I had plenty to talk about as we trotted down the empty streets of downtown Vanhoover. She didn’t seem to mind all the questions I had for her, and I in return answered everything she asked of me. It was strange thinking how I only had memories of the last month of my life, and of that only eight days had been spent outside the Stable. Yet, in that week and a day I felt I had experienced more than I ever could have in my life before arriving at Stable 85.

The MoM Hub was only a few hours away from the Strip, yet it looked like nopony had ever been here before. The entire block around it showed no signs of activity, raider or otherwise. All the damage had been caused by the megaspells or by time. It was as if ponies shunned the building, and I had to admit that it gave off an unsettling vibe I couldn’t quite put my hoof on. Other than the faded posters featuring vaguely threatening slogans (most featuring Pinkie Pie) and the metal block lettering spelling out MINISTRY OF MORALE (in this case, M NISTRY F MORAL after some of the letters had fallen off) over the lobby doors, it looked like any other skyscraper in downtown Vanhoover.

The grimy glass doors made no noise as I pushed them open, and I trotted into a lobby with a thick layer of dust over everything. The only light came from the flickering dials over the elevators (that didn’t work despite that), so I activated the lamp spell on my PipBuck, and Sage switched on the flashlight she’d clipped to her security barding. As we trotted through the lobby, we passed an odd collection of items. Our lights swept over couches, trampolines, a reception desk, an ice cream parlor, and a security station with weapons still locked up all in close proximity to each other. The fact that the terminal for displaying flavors of ice cream was still lit up and humming gave me hope that we would be able to get important information from similar terminals elsewhere in the building.

The MoM Hub was easily fifty stories tall, and it would take forever to search all the floors, so Sage and I agreed to split up to search as long as we stayed within a floor of each other. Whenever we finished looking through a floor, we’d wait back at the stairs (which also had a slide running down the middle) for the other to return before moving on. The first few floors proved to be pretty boring, holding no more than kitchens and office spaces free of terminals but abundant with old birthday cards, and we soon fell into a rhythm as we moved up.

I was exploring the ninth floor, inspecting a stack of calendars just in case they held something interesting, when I heard a gunshot from the floor below. A second later, I heard more gunshots as somepony returned fire. I galloped as fast I could toward the stairs, but stopped cold when I saw what was waiting for me there.

“Did you really think you could get away from me?” Overmare Fairy Floss asked as the Pinks around her all pointed their weapons at me, “Hello, Doc; it’s been awhile.”

Level Up
New Perk: Healthy as a Horse – You have a greater resistance to diseases than the normal pony. 50% less chance of becoming ill.
Equipment added: Crimson Tide Pass
New Quest: The Ministry of Morale – Face Overmare Fairy Floss and the Pinks
Barter +1 (13)
Energy Weapons +4 (22)
Explosives +6 (23)
Science +2 (55)
Small Guns +4 (48)
Sneak +3 (29)