Sector: Conducive Cave
100 Years 10 Months 5 Days PSR

Wick set the fire in angry silence. We'd barely spoken a word for the past two hours, which had been spent trekking as far from Repentance as possible and finding a cave, where we'd settled on staying for the night. Her mood seemed to be having an effect on her ability to light fires, and every few moments she cast an accusing glance up at Swiss, as if it were his fault. In a way, it sort of was, since he'd caused the bad mood in the first place (in part at least; the rest of that responsibility fell on the citizens of Repentance).

After fifteen minutes of setting and resetting the grass kindling, I stepped forward and lit it for her with my horn.

"Spark-a-dark, where's my sire? Will I lay me? Will I stay me? Bless this camp with fire," I recited, remembering Wick's ritual. The kindling phoomfed to life, illuminating the cave. Even so, shadows lingered, leaving crevices and patches of floor behind each of us shrouded.

She flashed me the briefest of smiles. "Could've done that ten minutes ago."

"Thought maybe we all needed some time to think," I replied.

She turned her gaze on Swiss again. "Maybe..." she said.

The quiet lingered, but for the crackling of the fire echoing through the cave. Swiss was staring with great concentration at the ground, as if willing it to swallow him up. It didn't seem to be working. The tension grew as the inevitable conversation loomed continually closer. No one wanted to start, not even Wick, for all the rage spelled out in the smoke wisping from her nostrils. Angry blood wept at her bandaged shoulder, which we'd applied shortly after our encounter.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I spoke first. "When were you going to tell us?"

Swiss flinched, like he'd been physically slapped. He let out a shuddery breath. "When... when the situation called for it. Like it did tonight."

"We've been friends for years," said Wick, her voice thick with confusion and anger.

"Y-you have every r-right to be mad," said Swiss. "Every right t-to feel b-betrayed."

"We've trusted you since Shackle. We trusted you with keeping our uprising a secret! How could you keep this a secret from us?" rambled Wick, speaking as much to herself as Swiss.

"Shackle was a v-very dangerous place to be a ch-changeling," said Swiss. "Imagine... Hammer had th-that concubine. What would h-he do if he h-had a creature who could ch-change form? Be wh-whatever he wanted? I was scared."

"But... you could've trusted us," I said. "You know we wouldn't have told."

"I know that. In f-fact, that's o-one of the reasons I tried so hard to become friends with you at first."

"What do you mean?" asked Wick coldly.

Swiss flinched again. "Changelings... we can get, I mean, feel, p-personality traits from those we spend of time with. Piece together your personality fr-from individual scraps of emotion. Ever notice m-me being able to tell your mood?"

I had noticed. Wick nodded in confirmation.

"You're furious right now W-Wick, feel betrayed. That's bad enough, b-but Revamp... you just don't know what to feel, and th-that's even worse."

"Get on with it," snapped Wick.

"Back then, I-I was manipulative. I tr-tried to make friends with the r-right people. S-so I hung out w-with you. But s-something else happened. Y-you didn't j-just let me tag along. You l-liked me. I'd n-never... I liked it. I st-started liking y-you back. Your friendship helped m-me grow. It sounds s-sick, but it gave me sustenance. You g-guys remember my growth sp-spurt. Th-that was you! That place was hell f-for a changeling, and you made it o-okay.

"Ev-eventually... eventually I knew I'd need to c-come clean about wh-what I was. F-first I told myself I-I'd do it once we'd es-escaped. Th-then once we were on our ow-own. B-but I couldn't make mys-s-self do it. I kn-new you'd let me stay, but it w-would be like... I don't know... bad. I didn't want to face y-your disappointment, your hatred, how-however brief. It wou– it hurts. It hurts."

"Show us your form," I broke in. "Like, show us how you look as a changeling. I want to see what you really look like."

Wick nodded, her face hard.

Swiss looked uncomfortable, but after mulling it over for a moment, nodded as well. "I– okay. But I want you both to know, the me that you've come to recognize over the past two years... that's the real me. Not what you're about to see. That's the old me. That's a changeling. I hate it." Tears rested unfallen at the corners of his eyes.

There was a small inferno of green fire, reminiscent of the muzzle flashes from Wick's carvers, and in Swiss's place was the creature I'd seen on the poster in the Lambda Facility. It looked to be a cross between a pony and an insect. It was equine in size and shape, but all else was foreign. Its entire body was covered in a dull black carapace, its mouth lined with sharp teeth and a pair of protruding fangs. Its legs were strange, full of holes, and it's wings were like those of a dragonfly, thin and transparent with a slightly blue tinge. Its eyes were pure blue, without a pupil, yet somehow conveyed emotion in crashing waves. Tears began to fall.

"Can... I turn b-back now?" it whispered, its voice like the hissing of snake.

I dipped my head, not trusting myself to speak without crying. There was another flash of burning emerald light, then Swiss was back. Back to norm–

Swiss's gender had changed. All else about hi– her was the same– the fur color, the cutie mark, the eyes– but now her mane was longer, and the rest of her body had definitely taken on some... feminine... attributes.

"Why are you a filly?" asked Wick bluntly. She sounded genuinely confused. That was a good sign. Whatever lingering anger had been in her was gone now. Thank Celestia for that.

I wiped excess moisture from my eyes. "Yeah, uh... yeah?" I asked stupidly.

Swiss blushed, another clear sign that the tension was over, for now at least. "Like I said, I didn't want to be put in Hammer Swing's concubine thing. I've always been more comfortable like this, but I... it didn't make sense to stay like that back then," she explained. Her voice was higher then before.

I came forward and wrapped my forelegs around her in a hug. She hugged back fiercely. Whatever brief alienation she'd had was over. She was back in the group, if she'd ever left at all.

None of us slept that night. Swiss and Wick chattered away, getting past the lies that had unknowingly separated them. I worked on removing the tracker from our newly procured code transmitter. Once I was finished that, I joined the conversation. Even though we'd experienced as much as many adults did in the wasteland already, we were still, at our core, kids, and for better or worse, kids forgive easily. The revelation with Swiss was barely an issue.

Sector: Radioactive Station
100 Years 10 Months 28 Days PSR

It became clear several miles out from the radio station that this place was more than just the origin point of a broadcast. If the number of buildings and the amount of movement were anything to judge by, a whole town must've been there. And as we got closer and closer, this fact only cemented itself. This was definitely a town.

"I think we ought to be cautious again," said Swiss about a half mile out from the town. "Remember what happened last time."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," said Wick.

"See if you can get a read on the place once we get in," I suggested. "Can you do that? And maybe on Mike himself. Now that we know you can do that, we should use it."

"Uh, okay, sounds good."

Jammed in the ground just outside the town was the remains of a Sunrise billboard, with "RADIOACTIVE STATION" scrawled on it in black paint. Beneath that were about a dozen crossed out numbers, the most recent proclaiming "Pop: 59 + 196".

"Wonder what the 'plus 196' means."

"Who knows? We can ask later. Let's just get our business taken care of," chided Wick.

We walked into Radioactive Station eager to find Golden Mike, but were quickly sidetracked by another of the town's strange quirks.

"You guys see it too, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, pretty weird. Do you think it would be impolite to ask about it?" said Swiss.

"Probably, especially out in the open like this."

"Mike seems like a pretty casual guy. We can ask him about it," I said.

We continued on our way, heading for the conspicuous metal tower at the town's center, passing ghouls left and right as we went. The entire way, we didn't see a single un-irradiated person. Considering this, we drew a lot of curious looks. We did our best to ignore them.

I chose to focus instead on Radioactive Station's buildings. Most of the foundations looked pre-war, but everything else looked like it had been cobbled together later, with the primary building materials of plywood, scavenged sheets of metal, and large chunks of rubble.

"Oh, come on," whispered Wick harshly under her breath. Her eyes were locked on a nearby restaurant that was currently going through lunch hour. The sign overtop the doorway said the name of the eatery was "Ghoulash".

"At least they have a sense of humor about it," I said. "Even if the pun is terrible."

My Pipbuck beeped.

>YOU'RE ONE TO TALK, HORSE PUN

"What'd it say?" Swiss asked.

"I think it thinks we tell bad jokes or something."

"Slap it in the face," she advised.

There was another beep.

>( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"What'd it say now?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm kinda scared."

The radio station was easy to find, with the monolithic tower of spidery metal beams protruding from its roof. The tower slowly thinned to point, where a red light blinked off and on at regular intervals, indicating that the station was there for any chariots flying at night. Now it served as a beacon for travelers, letting them know of the town's presence.

The building itself, not counting its tower, was still far bigger than any other in the community. It stood at three stories, dwarfing the rest. It also looked to be the only remnant of the pre-war establishment that must've existed here; Nothing about shouted ramshackle like the everything else around here. The only parts that looked replaced were the doors, which had been crafted by haphazardly welding together street signs, and the windows, which were broken.

We stood outside the structure, intimidated by its size. Each of us seemed to be waiting for the others to do something.

"I... guess we just go in," I ventured.

"Sure."

"Yeah."

I stepped forward, put up a hoof to knock, decided that was stupid, and walked in, my companions following close behind. We found ourselves in a lobby, with a couple of couches against the wall and a desk at the far side of room, which a ghoul filly seemed to be napping on top of, a microphone propped up over her head and a silent radio by her side.

I approached her. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Golden Mike." She was still asleep. "Golden Mike," I said a little louder. Nothing. I tapped her, and her eyes fluttered open.

"The fuck ya want?" she asked, a thick Manehatten accent tinging every word.

I blinked, taken aback. "I'm, uhm, looking for Golden Mike," I answered. I could here Swiss and Wick giggling behind me.

The filly took a lighter and pack of cigarettes from out of the desk, put one in mouth, and attempted to light it. The lighter seemed to be out of fluid. After a couple attempts, I lit it for her. By this point I'd figured out that this filly was probably older than she looked.

She took a puff and blew it to the side. "He broadcastin' now. Ain't tell ya why. Damn thing don't go more'n hundred miles, and nothin' to talk to out there. 'Cept maybe you, and this fuckin' town."

"I'm here to fix that. I guess we'll just wait for him here. Could you let him know we're here?"

"Ain't nothin' doin'. Just a sec." She turned on her radio. "Lemme tell ya, ya get tired listnen to this asshole all day. A gurl can only take s'much, ya know?" She turned up the volume. A song was playing. "Okay, it's a song, lemme talk to 'im." She pressed a button on her desk and spoke into a microphone. "Hey asshole."

A voice piped up from a speaker in the desk. "What is it Glit?"

"Some kids here t'see ya. Say he got somethin' to fix yer prollem."

Golden Mike was audibly excited. "Really! Alright, I'll cut the broadcast short today. See you in a few."

Once the song was over, Mike came back on the air. "Hey there, I got some good news for whoever's listening. If you remember, a few weeks back I held an open frequency to find someone to repair my equipment. Well, he just got here. Hopefully, the next time you hear me, my voice will be travelling a lot farther. Bye for now, folks."

The radio went silent.

A few moments later, the door leading deeper into the building opened, and an ancient but smiling stallion, his fur stained grey-green from years of radiation poisoning, strode out. I could see a couple of his back teeth through gaps of flesh in his cheeks, which looked kind of like melted cheese. Over his eyes he wore slotted pink sunglasses, which juxtaposed pretty much everything else about him in a way that should've been creepy.

But at the same time, nothing about him was scary. His grin was huge and genuine, and something about him just (excuse the pun) radiated pleasantness, though I couldn't tell you what.

"Damn," he said, looking us over. "I mean, I could tell you were young over the radio, kid, but I didn't realize you'd be this young. Or that you'd have friends with you!"

"Young enough to send into a town of zealots without telling us first?" asked Swiss.

"Hey Swiss, we're not looking for a–"

"No, no, the little lady's right. I should've told you. But... well, you might not've been willing to do it if I told what was out there."

"They attacked us," stated Swiss.

"What?" gasped Mike. "But... what? They... they don't attack without some reason. Did you do something to upset them?"

"Not on purpose," said Wick. "They were after me specifically. Said I was going to raise a demon or something."

"Holly shit," said Glit, the cigarette dropping out of her mouth.

Mike put a hoof to his head. "I mean, I knew they were a bit nuts, but that's just batshit. Fuck. And you're just fucking kids!"

I nodded. "It was a pretty close shave, but we got away. Wick got shot," I said, indicating her shoulder.

"Well, I don't need to tell you I feel horrible about all this." His hoof went to his chin. "Now this could hardly make up for it, but I'll up you're reward by 200 caps, and have one of the nurses round here have a look at your shoulder... uh, Wick, was it?"

"Yeah. And thanks."

"I ought to be thanking you all. You've done me a good service. Once... uh sorry, I recognize your voice, but I didn't catch your name?" he asked me.

"Revamp."

"Once Revamp gets my code transmitter up and running again, we'll have ourselves a little talk about what to do next, over dinner, if you finish by then."

"Sure, lets get started. I remember you said there were schematics. Can I see them?"

"Course. This way," Mike said, waving a hoof for us to follow.

He led us through a few hallways, up two flights of stairs, and into a room full of broadcasting equipment. Wires and machines filled with dials covered the walls. In the center of it all sat a computer console. It was a lot to take in.

"Now all this stuff is just the same as it was before the code transmitter broke, so you don't need to mess with it. The machine you want is that one in the corner," he said, pointing. The part he indicated had by far the most wires running through it, with inputs and outputs in at least two dozen places. "Left the blueprints right next to it for you. Should I just leave you to it?"

"Yup."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he said, walking out of the cramped room. We didn't speak until we heard him descend the last flight of stairs.

"What do you think of him, Swiss?" asked Wick.

"Seems okay to me," she answered. "A bit sad maybe, and guilty, but he didn't mean us any harm."

"I guess that's why he feels guilty," I guessed.

"Actually, that's a little weird. I mean, sure he was sorry about Repentance, but there's something else too."

"Any idea about what it could be," asked Wick. "It might be useful."

Swiss shook her head. "Not really, just that it's a very deep guilt. It's been bothering him a long time."

"How about we stop gossiping about our employer?" I suggested, annoyed.

Wick shrugged. "Hey, information's information, information is knowledge, and knowledge is power. Someone said that, right?"

Swiss giggled. "I'm sure someone did."

The main reason the code transmitter conked out was old age. Wherever Golden Mike's guy had gotten this thing from, it had been in use a long time before it came here. If I ever met the guy, I'd have to ask him where he got it. There might be something else there worth taking.

Even though the reason for the problem was simple, fixing it wasn't. I spent about half an hour analyzing how the transmitter fit in with the rest of the equipment, taking mental note of every connection, and checking to make sure they matched up with the schematic. It was tricky, because a lot of the connectors were homemade especially for this, and the schematic was from an official instruction booklet. While it was certainly useful, I had to do a lot of my investigation to figure out where everything went, and in which order.

I took the liberty of marking up the schematic with additional notes for the next person to work on this, as well as borrowing some tape to identify the wires more quickly. It took a little extra time for the moment, but would save time in the long run.

Next came the labor intensive part of the job where we disconnected every wire from the old transmitter. I say we because it took multiple people. A lot of wires needed to be pulled at once, to avoid damaging the overall circuitry, and I couldn't levitate sires and reference instructions at the same time. I made sure to walk Swiss and Wick through the process several times before proceeding, and even then still read them the instructions as we went along, glancing over every few seconds to double check what we were doing.

The final part was repeating the whole thing in reverse. We'd done it once, so doing it again wasn't too much of a hassle. Our setup of the new transmitter took less than half the time of disabling the original.

I flipped the power switch, which I'd turned off before we began, and I checked the computer console to make sure it was working. The mini map showed three other stations getting our signal and rebroadcasting it, so we finished up and headed down stairs. It was four hours after we started, and we were drained and ready for whatever dinner Golden Mike had planned.

We reached the ground floor, where we found Golden Mike pacing up and down the hallway. He saw us and rushed over. "Is it done?"

"Should be working fine now. Wanna test it?"

"I'd like nothing more, but I promised you dinner. After all that work, you must be starving."

He led us outside and to the restaurant we'd passed earlier, Ghoulash. Night was falling and the air was cool, so we sat at one of the tables outside. The place was bustling with activity, so I thought it would be a while before we ordered, but almost as soon as we sat down a waitress was our side.

"Mr. Mike, what'll it be this evening?"

"Gatzy, please, I've got guests."

"Oh, of course. What'll it be?" she asked, turning to us.

"What've you got?" asked Wick.

The waitress listed off around two dozen dishes. Wick ordered a whole plate of radhog ribs, Swiss asked for a daisy sandwich, and Mike and I ordered oatburgers.

"Wow, didn't think they'd get to us that fast," I commented. I turned to Mike. "I'm guessing it had something to do with you?"

"Good guess. I founded this town, and it comes with a few perks."

"Must be pretty nice," said Wick, taking a sip from her water.

"Question," said Swiss. "Why set up a town all the way out here? I mean, there was already a station here of course, for your radio, and I guess it's isolated if you like that sort of thing, but it seems inconvenient. So why here?"

"Couple reasons. It's not that simple."

"We got time," I said, my curiosity peaked.

"Okay. Where do I start... well, first off, a lot of what I say on my show is to the detriment of other groups. If something happens somewhere, and I think it's wrong, I say so. Some people can't take criticism. Out here, people are less likely to come out and attack me. Hell, most people don't even know where it is!"

"The second reason is... let me tell you story. You it's a bit sad, but you're grown ups, never mind your age. I can see it in your faces. So anyways, the story...

"Long ago, there was a pony who was very popular, got invited to a lot of parties, and got all the mares, because he had a celebrity talk show. He thought he was happy, but really, he wasn't. Then one day, he met a singer. She was smart, beautiful, funny, and wonderful in every way, and her voice was mesmerizing, unforgettable. He asked her out, and by some miracle she said yes.

"But this pony was also stupid, and when another beautiful mare came along, he dumped the singer. It wasn't long before the stupid pony realized his mistake. He tried to get her back, but all the stupid pony could ever be to the singer now was a friend, and the stupid pony had to be happy with that. He would listen to her songs late at night after his show was over and cry himself to sleep.

"Then one day, because of greed, politics, and whatever else you want to blame it on, the bombs dropped, and the world ended. The stupid pony happened to be in a place where the bombs' magic effected him, but not enough to kill him. He became ugly and monstrous, and over time, his mind followed suit. He became a mindless, ravenous beast.

"One day many years, hundreds of years later, the monster found an unwary group of travelers, and walked toward their camp with the intention of eating them. Now these travelers had a radio with them, and it was tuned to a music station, playing one of the very songs the singer had performed all that time ago.

"And then something amazing happened. His mind resurfaced. He became himself again. But at the same time, he was haunted, for he remembered all the horrible things he'd done when he was a monster.

"The stupid pony made the second smart decision of his life (the first one being asking that singer pony on a date). He decided to put this fluke of fate to good use. He gathered as many other ghouls as he could, told them his story, and set them to gathering all their mindless brethren. The stupid pony played music for them, showed them old photographs, talked to them, tried to trigger a reaction, to snap them out of it.

"To this day, the stupid pony has had some moderate success. About a dozen ferals have been rehabilitated, some slowly, and some in an instant, like the stupid pony. And he keeps trying to this day."

My Pipbuck piped up:

>WOW
>THAT BACKSTORY WAS DELIVERED WITH ALL THE SUBTLETY OF A SLEDGEHAMMER

"What was that beep?" asked Mike.

"I don't think my Pipbuck liked your story," I apologized.

"O... kay."

"Well, I thought it was amazing," said Swiss, dewy eyed. "Very moving."

"Thanks for saying so," said Mike. "The project is my pride and joy. In fact, it's my main reason for running this station. The funds I get for the advertisements are what keep this place running. That's why I needed to get the station's transmission back to a wide audience. It's expensive getting Aqua Cure all the way out here, for the sentients and ferals alike."

"Really. But why not get the NCR to finance this project? It sounds worthwhile," said Wick.

"People are scared. Not to mention NCR's government has some of those Repentance freaks tainting it."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"The reason I couldn't send my techies to get the parts is that the Children, as they call themselves, aren't particularly fond of my endeavors. Say it's blasphemy. Say that the ferals are monsters, and need to be put down. Only thing stopping them from outright attacking this place is my radio popularity. People got wind that they took me out, it'd be trouble for them."

"That's really fucked u– hey, food's here."

We dug in. Everyone was hungry. The food was delicious, and hardly a word was spoken through the entire meal, other than the occasional request to pass a condiment. Within ten minutes every plate was clean.

"So," I said, mopping up the last of the ketchup with a bun, "why have only ghouls out here? Are they the only ones willing to work on it?"

"They're more willing to work on it than most. Most of them actually volunteer, which is great for the money situation, but it's also a safety thing. Ferals don't attack other ghouls. So as long as ghouls are the only ones that deal with the ferals, there isn't much risk involved. Honestly, sometimes just prolonged interaction with a non-hostile can do wonders for them, and that can't be accomplished without another ghoul."

"Is that what the sign at the edge of town means?" asked Swiss. "Fifty-nine sentient ghouls, one hundred ninety-six ferals."

"Yup," said Mike. He turned to Wick. "Say, do you want to get your shoulder looked at? I almost forgot."

"Yeah, it's fucking itchy."

"Yeah, go get that looked at. We got a nurse three buildings down on the left side. Tell them Golden Mike sent you."

"Sure. And thanks for the ribs." Wick got up and headed down the street.

An awkward silence permeated the conversation for a couple minutes. Swiss broke it.

"Hey, when you hired us, you mentioned something about more work."

"Oh, yes, yes, I did. I got a tip about some work that needs doing up in the NCR. Your kind of work."

"Alright, lay it on us."

"A couple years ago, some techies up there got that Hope Facility up and running. Runs on solar panels and the like. Basically helped prevent an imminent energy crisis. Up until then, they'd been using old pre-war energy cells to power everything, but they were running out."

"Okay. So what would they need me for? Sounds like they're doing fine. I mean, I have some decent experience with that kind of thing, but if they have it up and running, what's the issue?"

"Calm down, clam down. Sheesh, let me finish. I was getting to that."

"Oh. Sorry," I said, blushing.

"One of my sources says that they've got some efficiency problems. Can't keep the power consistent. He says that power seems to fluctuate on a monthly basis, for whatever reason. They're trying to keep the trouble quiet, but I'm sure they wouldn't say no to more help if it was offered to them, and the NCR is well known for fair salaries. If you could stop whatever issue they're having, you'd be set for a good while."

"If they're having problems, why don't you report on them?" I asked. "You did say that if you saw something wrong, you'd tell them so."

Mike looked uncomfortable. "It's a tricky situation, and from what I can tell, it's not like they aren't trying. And, well, there's also the issue of keeping my informant safe. Not to mention that while criticizing things like public officials is usually okay, revealing government secrets is a whole different ball game. Not worth the risk. For something like that, might send troops down here to shut me down." He fell silent for a moment, then added, "So you didn't here about this whole Hope thing from me, okay?"

I understood the fragility of the situation. "Not a word," I promised. "Swiss?"

"Yeah, sure," she said. "I know a thing or two about keeping secrets."

"Thank you for your discretion. And I'll keep mine about who helped me out with getting my broadcast back up. Don't need those Children of Sacrifice on your back any more than they already are."

Swiss and I exchanged a look. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean if they want your friend, Wick, dead, they'll try to make it happen. They have members of their fucked up order roaming the wasteland, and if they found out you helped me, it'll only make them angrier. They may be assholes, but they know their way around weapons, and aren't afraid to use them."

"Yeah, we know," I said, remembering the baptism.

"Anyways, enough that depressing shit. I'm gonna turn in. You two oughtta get your friend and do the same. Had Glit line up some beds for you in the station. Not that you're not welcome here, but it would probably be for the best if you set off in the morning. I'll gift you some supplies and pay you then." He turned and headed back for his studio.

Swiss and I made our way to Wick. "Why do you think he wants us to leave so soon?" I asked.

"He doesn't want to give the Children a reason to come here," she said. "Can't blame him, really. He's doing good work here, and I know I'd hate to see it gone to waste."

"I guess," I sighed. "Hey, how serious do you think those Children are about getting Wick?"

Swiss shivered. "That Litany lady was scared. Terrified. And if I had to guess, I'd say the Children would go very far out of their way to see us dead." The look in her eye made me shiver too.