I broke my fast the following morning on a box of Sugar-Frosted Apple Bombs (part of a complete breakfast). I couldn’t say exactly how nutritious it was, but I’d eaten my last apple from Stable 85 the night before, and snack cakes didn’t seem appropriate for a morning meal. As I chewed my breakfast (the box had them soaked in milk, but I wasn’t likely to find that in the Wasteland) I considered the memory I’d seen the night before. Everything seemed to click together now: why the memory had been preserved, why it was in a safe in a MoM office, why the Vanhoover Sports Center was a wreck. I was able to deduce more from the memory than just that, though. Everypony knew that the War had happened a long time ago, but just how long was up for debate. According to my PipBuck, the current year was 1503, and the war had still been going on during the attack on the Vanhoover Sports Center, which both the memory and memo concerning it placed as occurring in 1346, over 150 years ago.

Flint didn’t have any suggestions on what to do with the memory orb other than to find a buyer who’d be interested in the memory. Now that I knew what it was, I wasn’t sure who would be willing to pay to experience it for themselves. It was a snapshot to the past, and it had a great hoofball game, but the ending wasn’t something I personally wanted to experience more than once. It was too realistic; by the end, I felt as if my host’s emotions were flowing into me, and I was losing myself in the memory. I carefully placed the memory orb back in its case in my saddlebags anyway, just in case I did one day find a collector willing to pay for it.

Flint and I went our separate ways after that; her to the militia’s barracks, and me to the common room to lay out my bedroll. Following the lead of the other ponies sleeping there, I shoved my saddlebags down into the bottom of the bedroll before getting in to keep my possessions from being stolen. When I awoke the next morning, my back was stiff, but not as stiff as it would have been had I slept on the floor without the bedroll. Even so, I found myself longing for a bed like I’d had back in Stable 85, even if it was in a clinic. Maybe it would be worth it to spend the caps to get a real room and bed. If I wanted to stay in Sundale, it might even be worth it to invest in a shack of my own. If I decided to join the Sundale militia, I would be free to use the barracks, but Flint said that very few ponies actually took advantage of that offer other than Rasp, Rogue, and herself, since only they were given private rooms away from the main bunkroom.

I was well-stocked on ammunition after my shopping trip the day before, so once I’d finished eating, I headed over to the shooting range to try out my new hunting rifle. My practice didn’t make me an expert markspony by any means, but I could tell by the time I was done that I was getting better. After I was through with my rifle, I took some swings with my machete at the posts the cans were set on until my PipBuck warned me to sharpen it, part of something called the “Stable-dweller’s Survival Guide” that had been downloaded onto the device after leaving the Stable. I was at work sharpening my blade with the kit I’d been smart enough to grab back at Greenbough when Inkrose found me.

“Hey Doc,” she greeted me (as I had no better name to offer, I’d stuck with Doc) “What’re you doing out here?”

“I was taking some practice shots and swings,” I told her as I finished sharpening my machete, placed the kit in my saddlebags, and sheathed the blade at my side, “Is that why you came out here?”

“Well, actually, I came out here looking for you,” she said, grinding her hoof into the ground.

“For me? Why?” I asked.

“I heard you came from a Stable. Is that true?”

“More or less,” I told her, “My earliest memories are of a Stable, but my memories don’t go back too far.”

“I was just wondering what it was like. My grandparents came from a Stable—Stable 57 to be exact, way out west of here—they always used to call it the Silent Stable. At least, that’s what I heard. By the time I was old enough to remember anything, they were already gone, but my parents said I wasn’t likely to understand anything they said anyway; they always talked either too soft or too loud. I’d like to know what it was like living in a Stable, if you’re willing to talk about it.”

“Oh, of course,” I said, “What do you want to know exactly?”

As it turned out, Inkrose wanted to know absolutely everything there was to know about Stable 85, including the color and design of the walls, and when, where, what, and how we ate. Many of her questions led to more questions, as my answers often contained things she had never known out in the Wasteland, like an Overmare and an Atrium. The hours ticked away as we talked and trotted through Sundale. Sometimes she would take a break from the questions, and tell me something about the town, which would lead to questions of my own. Once she finally ran out of questions we headed to Sundale’s marketplace to await the return of Rogue with the wagonload of weapons from Greenbough.

“… militia has turned its back on our Goddess!” the robed pony standing in front of the statue of Celestia was yelling as we trotted past, “At this very moment, Her likeness is being profaned by the scum of our world, heathens and savages with no regard for pony life or for the bright gift of the sun! I ask you, are those who have the power to stop it and stand by any less guilty? No, I say! No! They have turned their backs on the light…”

“What was that about?” I asked Inkrose once we were out of earshot.

“The Adherents of the Holy Light are upset with the Sundale militia after our report from yesterday came out this morning,” she explained, “When Flint’s group was in old Sundale, they found Celestia’s head, which has been missing ever since before Sundale was founded. Unfortunately, it was in a raider camp, and they left without attacking to attend to your firefight. The Adherents see the fact that we’re sending wagons to retrieve weapons from Greenbough instead of attacking Sundale as a betrayal of Celestia. They must be really worked up in a frenzy to send the Priestess of the Holy Light herself out to preach, instead of one of the acolytes.”

“So, is the militia going to do something about it?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at the Priestess and the crowd growing around her.

“Probably not right away,” Inkrose replied, “Rasp doesn’t like being pressured by the Adherents of the Holy Light, especially since the Priestess is always trying to usurp her powers. Eventually, she’ll cave when either enough ponies ask it of her or she and the Priestess broker a deal, but that won’t be for a good long while.”

“This seems pretty important,” I said, watching as the crowd of ponies continued to grow around the Priestess, shouting “Praise be” from time to time, “Is there any way to settle this sooner?”

“Not unless a group other than militia decides to go to old Sundale,” Inkrose answered, “Like the Adherents themselves, but I doubt they’re willing to go past the fence.”

“But any group of ponies would work, right? Not just the Adherents?” I asked, the beginning of an idea forming in my head. Inkrose appeared to catch on right away.

“You’re not planning on doing something crazy, are you?” she asked, giving me a serious look, “It’s suicide for a single pony to attempt to take out a whole raider settlement by themselves. You’re not planning on doing that, are you?”

“No,” I said, “Not by myself.”

“And just who are you going to get to go with you?”

“Well, I was hoping you would,” I said.

“You don’t have to, of course,” I said when my offer was met with silence, “I was going to ask some other ponies anyway. I understand.”

“No,” Inkrose said, “I’m in, but you’re right; we’re going to need more ponies for this than just the two of us. Who were you thinking?”

Flint was the first pony who came to mind, but I realized it would be hard to call this a non-militia mission if it involved both a member and a commander of the Sundale militia. I hadn’t been here long, and my only friends were in the militia, however. I told Inkrose all of this, and she said we should speak to Flint first anyway, since we needed a skilled and highly experienced pony with us to be successful.

“Hm, ah like it,” Flint said when we told her my idea in the Sundale militia’s barracks, “Sign me up.”

“I’m coming too,” Rogue said, surprising everypony as he paused in disassembling his minigun long enough to speak up, “There’s no way I’m letting the three of you go alone and get killed out there.”

“Har har; afraid of us gettin’ all the glory, huh?” Flint mocked, “Y’all can’t seriously be scared for our skins; not when ya know ah’m the best fighter the Sundale militia’s got.”

“Please,” Rogue snorted as he carefully set down the pieces of his weapon, and rose to stand nose to nose with Flint, “You were still rolling around in the mud and sucking on your mane by the time I had my first kill. By the time you first held a weapon I already had a reputation-”

“And the ugly personality t’ match, no doubt,” Flint interrupted, “Ah don’t know; this just sounds like the braggin’ of a cranky ol’ pony tryin’ t’ relive the glory days t’ me.”

“Um, could we get back on task, maybe?” Inkrose asked, and Flint and Rogue ceased their argument (which seemed to be mostly friendly banter) “It’s great you both want to come, but how’s Rasp going to feel about losing both her captains?”

“Ah hadn’t considered that,” Flint admitted, evoking a “Figures” from Rogue, and earning him a hoof to the back of the head.

“Well, she needs to be told, in any case,” Rogue said as he rubbed where Flint had struck him.

“You’re right; I can’t allow this,” Rasp said a minute later in her office.

“Why not?” I asked, “You’re not planning any scouting missions, are you? I’d think with the haul from Greenbough you wouldn’t need to go out in a while.”

“Listen, Doc, is it?” Rasp said, folding her flaking forelegs on her desk, “It’s a good plan, to send to handle this situation without myself or the Priestess giving in, but the team you’ve got right now has three militia members—two of them captains—and the remaining member—you—has been seen helping us. However you look at it, it appears I’m giving in to the Priestess’s demands, and I won’t have it.”

“And . . . if I could get the Priestess to send one of her own along, then would you allow it?” I asked, thinking on the spot.

“Hm, an interesting proposition,” the ghoul said, leaning back in her chair, “I like it. Okay then, if you can get the Priestess to send one of her acolytes with you, I can permit this. I wouldn’t count on her giving you anything, though, so don’t get your hopes up.”

The Priestess was no longer standing in front of the headless statue of Celestia when we emerged from the power plant, so we headed back inside, where the temple of the Adherents was. Everypony but me knew where it was located, so I followed behind the rest of the group as they wove through what had once been maintenance corridors. The temple had once been a small auditorium for the power plant’s workers, and it now had faded red tapestries hanging everywhere, pictures of Celestia crudely stitched into them. Several acolytes were at prayer as we passed through, and paid us no mind.

The Priestess’s quarters were above the temple, in a small room with a large open window looking out over the auditorium. She called us in immediately after we knocked. The pony we’d come to see was seated behind an old desk exactly like the hundreds I’d seen scattered throughout the Wasteland, except draped with a red cloth even more faded than the ones out in the temple. More wall hangings were everywhere, along with a few old and peeling posters depicting Celestia, and a statuette of the sun goddess was sitting on the desk. The Priestess of the Holy Light was an older yet vigorous looking mare with a teal coat and a half yellow, half white mane that couldn’t be natural. She was covered in a robe dyed red just like all the other Adherents of the Holy Light, except that her robe also featured a few streaks of yellow. It didn’t escape me that her attire was the exact opposite of the uniforms the Sundale militia wore.

“Praise be to Celestia,” she announced as we entered the room, and her face hardened when she saw who had come, “I hope you’re here to tell me that Rasp has decided to send out a quest to retrieve the head of our Goddess’s shrine.”

“Yes and no,” Flint said.

“Which is it? Yes or no? It cannot be both,” the Priestess said, her motherly façade slipping a bit.

“No, then,” Flint replied testily, narrowing her eyes at her, “Rasp ain’t gonna be manipulated, but that don’t mean we can’t get that head back from those raiders.”

“I knew she wouldn’t be reasonable,” the Priestess complained, ignoring the last part of what Flint had said, “What else can you expect from a nonbeliever? She doesn’t understand how important this is; she hasn’t accepted the gifts of Celestia.”

“Can we cut the crap?” Rogue said bluntly, taking everypony in the room aback, except maybe Flint, who forgot she was angry long enough to chuckle, “I know getting this head is important to you—I understand that—but I also know that you’re trying to use this to get leverage over Rasp like you always do. Now we’re trying to help you, and acting this way isn’t going to help anypony. So could you please just shut up and listen while we tell you our idea to get Celestia’s head back today instead of a week from now when either you or Rasp caves in?”

For a moment, I thought the Priestess was going to tell us to get lost. Instead, she cleared her throat and said, “Very well. Let’s see what you have to say.”

“You’re up, Doc,” the former mercenary said.

“Well, I thought that if we could get a group of ponies together as individuals instead of as a faction, we could get the head faster,” I tried to explain, “The four of us are in, but Rasp refuses to let both her captains go unless somepony from the Adherents of the Holy Light comes too.”

“So that’s why you’re here,” the Priestess said, “You want to take some of my acolytes away with you.”

“Just one would be enough,” Inkrose interjected, “Just so that the group that goes to old Sundale isn’t only militia ponies.”

“You’ll have two,” the Priestess announced, “I’ll send my most capable acolytes. They’ll be waiting for you at the gate once our noon service has concluded today. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for said service.”

We were giddy with success when we left the Priestess’s quarters. I almost couldn’t believe my plan had really worked. I was beginning to feel better about myself, and why shouldn’t I? It was my second day in Sundale, and I had already found a solution to a major confrontation between the town’s leaders. Inkrose, Flint, Rogue, and I had some lunch and talked things over before heading out to the gate just shy of an hour after noon. True to the Priestess’s word, two acolytes were waiting for us at the gate with weapons strapped on over their robes. Together, the six of us set out for old Sundale.

The acolytes didn’t want to talk much on the way there except to say “Praise Celestia; praise be” every time one of the rest of us mentioned Sundale, the sun, or Celestia herself. One was a beige unicorn mare with an assault rifle; the other a stocky red earth pony stallion with a pistol like mine, but with a silencer on the end. Both had their manes shaved off just like every acolyte I’d seen, and I caught no sight of the tails hidden beneath their robes. They never offered us their names, which was apparently normal for Adherents of the Holy Light.

I learned quite a bit about their religion from Inkrose as we traveled down the abandoned road. The Adherents of the Holy Light only existed in Sundale, possibly because of the town’s reliance on sunlight. Unlike most ponies, who believed that both Celestia and Luna were goddesses, the Adherents worshiped only Celestia. Luna, they claimed, had committed far too many sins in her time to achieve apotheosis; only Celestia had been pure enough to ascend to godhood. The Adherents had been a part of Sundale for as long as anypony could remember, and nearly half the town believed their teachings, though less than a sixteenth actually gave up their lives to become an acolyte. It was rumored that the acolytes changed their names (and some said their appearance as well) once a year, but only acolytes knew for sure, and our robed companions weren’t forthcoming with the truth. It was known as fact that once a pony became Priestess, she gave up all names but her title. Through all Inkrose’s explanations, the acolytes with us never contradicted her, so I had to assume everything she told me was true.

Our conversation stopped as we entered old Sundale, passing beneath the decaying bodies of ponies the raiders had carved up for sport. We kept a lookout for sentries, and I kept my eyes on my EFS as we made our way to the center of town. Only one raider was spotted before we reached our destination, and Rogue quickly killed him with a bullet to the head, catching him unawares on a toilet in one of the abandoned houses.

Flint was the only pony with us who’d seen the raider nest before, and she led the way as we reached the center of town. From the third floor of an old shop, we were able to get a good look at the compound these despicable ponies had made their home. The area they were living in had once been Sundale’s town square, and the back boundary was the dilapidated town hall. It didn’t look like there was any way to enter the building itself, since the arch around the main doors had collapsed long ago, but there was scaffolding across the front wall, and planks and ladders on the roof leading up to the precariously tilting bell tower. Lampposts ringed the park, but their lights had been burned out for centuries. Now they were used to support the scrap metal and junk propped up as a makeshift wall. The only way in seemed to be through the front, where a bus roof was suspended by chains over a sign bearing the town’s name. This was due to both the difficulty in climbing over the wall, and the fact that the streets on all sides but the front were saturated with landmines.

“Where’re they all at?” Flint asked, “When we were here last time, there were three dozen at least; now I only count eight.”

“Nine, including the sniper in the bell tower,” Rogue corrected, lowering half a set of binoculars from his eye, “The rest must be out raiding.”

“Good riddance,” Inkrose said, “All that means is that this will be even easier than we expected. So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, the only way in is through the front gate, but we’d have to blast it open,” Flint said, confirming my earlier observation.

“Maybe not,” I said, a plan starting to form in my mind, “What if we get them to open it for us?”

Soon, all the pieces for my plan were in place. Flint, Inkrose, Rogue, the male acolyte, and I were waiting on the second floor of a shop directly across from the compound’s entrance. The other acolyte was below us with a service dolly loaded with the raider Rogue had killed earlier, ready to kick off the plan. She gave the dolly a shove, sending it rolling out toward the field of landmines. As it hit, the dolly and the body were sent flying into the air. The explosion drowned out the crash as the dolly hit the ground, but not the meaty sound of the corpse as it landed a moment later.

Everything now hinged on the raiders being the sick, sadistic freaks I expected them to be. On hearing the body hit the ground, they were no doubt curious to know who their minefield had killed, and would want to retrieve the mutilated corpse. Time passed at a crawl as we waited for them to respond, until finally the makeshift gate began to be pulled up. Four raiders with varying stages of armor wandered out and headed toward where the explosion had occurred. Two more stayed just inside the compound by the gate winch.

Before the raiders could turn the corner and get a glimpse of their dead friend, Flint pulled a metal apple from her saddlebags and threw it down at the group. By the time they realized that they had been tricked, it was too late for them. Flint’s metal apple took out three of them, and the fourth was killed as the nearby landmines were set off.

I slipped into SATS as the pony nearest the winch began to move for it. I blasted three shots toward the raider with my hunting rifle in slow motion. The first struck her in the shoulder, knocking her away from the winch controls, and the second missed, but the third caught her in the neck and dropped her. Before the other raider could lower the gate, Inkrose blasted him with magical energy, catching him in the flank as he dove behind some barrels.

The female acolyte was already advancing across the street, using the spray from her assault rifle to keep the gate clear of raiders. Flint led the way down the stairs, and I followed at the back of the group. I nearly tripped and bowled over the ponies ahead of me as the sniper’s round buried itself in the wall next to my head. Despite that close call, we all made it downstairs and across the street safely.

The raider Inkrose had hit with her magical energy pistol was still alive just inside the compound, but his legs didn’t appear to work anymore. Trapped behind the barrels, he held a submachinegun over the edge and shot in our general direction. With an expert shot, Flint killed him and allowed us to enter the raider nest.

The sniper became more zealous as we got closer, forcing us to stay behind cover whenever possible. When she paused to reload, we took off toward the town hall as fast as possible, dodging the shots of a raider hiding out in a shack by the ruins of the main doors. Another raider was sprinting toward the gazebo in the center of the square, and I fired at her a few times with my pistol, but missed every shot. I didn’t feel as bad when Rogue missed her as well as she dove into the gazebo. A moment later, we found out why she’d been in such a hurry to get there.

“Get to cover!” Rogue yelled as a tarp fell to the side to reveal a minigun, its barrels already spinning.

Inkrose and I dove behind a crumbling fountain, Flint behind a pile of scrap, and Rogue and the acolyte mare behind a rusted refrigerator. I had no idea where the male acolyte had ended up, but I hoped it was somewhere safe. A roar cut through the air as the minigun fired just after we found places of refuge. The raider’s storm of fire passed over Inkrose and me, chipping the fountain but unable to touch us, and focused on the old fridge. It wasn’t in good shape to start with and quickly deteriorated as the bullets sliced through it. Whenever one of us tried to shoot the mare firing the minigun, we were forced back down by shots from the sniper.

When Rogue and the acolyte were forced to abandon their dwindling cover, they took off in separate directions. The acolyte joined Flint, but Rogue took off farther from us, taking cover in a scrap metal shack. The minigun pony kept her focus on him, tearing the shack apart, and he was forced to move again, being forced closer to the raider by town hall.

Suddenly the minigun stopped firing, and the raider slumped over it, dead. It took a moment for me to figure out what happened, but eventually I noticed the acolyte stallion standing off to the side, his pistol held out in front of him pointed at where the raider had been standing. It dropped from his mouth a second later as a bullet from the sniper punched through his side.

“Ray!” the female acolyte yelled as he went down, and she tried to run to him before Flint restrained her.

I vaulted over the fountain and galloped to the gazebo, and Inkrose followed me. The raider was still slumped over her minigun and her blood dripped down in front of me, which was a bit unsettling, but the gazebo provided exquisite cover, and I was also able to see Ray’s body from it. It looked like he would be okay, so long as he didn’t move, which he appeared to grasp. I could see him still breathing and blinking, at least, and he didn’t appear to be bleeding too badly.

A burst of fire came from the far side of the compound as Rogue fought the last raider at our level, and the sniper’s attention turned to him. Flint and I ran closer to him as Inkrose fired blasts of magical energy at the bell tower, keeping the sniper pinned down. As she stopped to reload, Flint and I jumped behind another refrigerator for cover. Peeking over the top, I watched as Rogue cornered the raider and turned her head and chest to paste with his submachinegun.

“Come omf!” Flint yelled as she grabbed the back of my doctor’s coat in her teeth, dragging me along.

She let me go as I followed her, turning back just in time to see a metal apple blow the fridge we’d been hiding behind into the air. The two of us joined Rogue as the pile of old rubber tires he’d retreated to was also blown sky high. The three of us hid behind a rusty sky chariot as Inkrose’s magical blasts pinned down the sniper again.

The female acolyte rushed up the scaffolding and across the roof, making her way up to the bell tower. As she climbed the ladder, Inkrose stopped shooting to avoid hitting her, and the sniper popped her head back up. She regretted that decision a moment later as the acolyte reached the top of the ladder and fired her assault rifle until the clip was empty. And with that, our battle was over.

Once we tended to Ray’s injuries, which only needed a tight bandage and a minor healing potion, we returned to what we’d come here to do. Flint led us to Celestia’s head, which was half-buried in the ground. It looked like the raiders didn’t even know what they’d had, since they had been using Celestia’s horn as a post from which to string a bloody rope I didn’t want to know the purpose of. There was no defacing done to the statue’s head, for which the acolytes were thankful. A little bit of cleaning up, and it would be ready to reattach to Celestia’s body.

Having not brought a cart with us, we used the raiders’ sky chariot to transport the head and minigun back to Sundale. The acolytes insisted they be the ones to tow Celestia’s head back, but they objected to letting the minigun ride along. They gave up, however, when they realized that Rogue wouldn’t be swayed in the matter. There was no way he was willing to leave such a powerful weapon with these raiders, and I agreed. In general, it wasn’t wise to let ponies so intent on hurting others own something this destructive, and in this specific case, letting a raider gang we’d just killed members of keep a minigun could prove disastrous if they came back for revenge.

We arrived at Sundale’s gates at sunset, and word passed through the town swiftly enough that we were greeted to a warm welcome as we reached the headless statue of Celestia. The Priestess herself praised us for retrieving Celestia’s head, and called for a celebration immediately. The Fixers, who kept the power plant running, were originally opposed to keeping the lights on after dark and using backup power, but they caved when they realized how adamant the Priestess and the townsponies were and when they admitted that there was enough backup power stored to last a whole day. They only agreed to keep the lights on for three hours, though; the backup power was intended for emergencies, after all.

It was a grand celebration, and nearly everypony in the town attended. The marketplace became packed as ponies partied around the statue of Celestia and merchants kept their stalls open past normal hours, offering discounted food and drink for the occasion. Excitement was in the air, and the six of us who’d gone to old Sundale were congratulated more times than I could remember.

Around the end of the third hour, I saw a serious-looking militia member approach Rasp and whisper in her ear. It was hard to tell with a ghoul, but a look of concern seemed to pass over her face. She followed the militia-pony away, but returned a few minutes later. This time there was no mistaking the worry on her face as she purposefully made her way up to the statue of Celestia and yelled for everypony’s attention. The party came to a halt as everypony turned to look at the ghoul sheriff.

“Everypony not in the militia, get inside the power plant at once!” she yelled as loud as she could, “This is an emergency town meeting!”

I heard some frightened whinnies and snorts of disapproval in the crowd, but everypony listened and began to make their way toward the open doors of the Sundale Power Plant. I followed along with the crowd, not sure exactly what was going on or what was expected with a town meeting.

“You stay back here,” Rasp said to me as I trotted past her.

Puzzled, I waited until I was left alone with the Sundale militia in the empty marketplace.

“You deserve to hear this first, since it concerns you,” Rasp told me, “The town is surrounded by raiders demanding we turn you over in an hour or they’ll attack us.”

“The rest’a the Sundale raiders?” Flint asked, hopefully. By her count, there were more militia members here than how many Sundale raiders were left. Unfortunately, I didn’t think Rasp would call a town meeting if there wasn’t a more serious threat.

“No, this is a much larger group out of North Bank,” Rasp replied.

“You mean the-” a militia member started to say before Rasp cut him off.

“There’s no need to repeat the foul name they gave themselves,” she said firmly.

“Well, what do the… North Bank raiders want with him?” the same militia member said, pointing at me.

My PipBuck! my mind screamed. It was the only explanation for why a gang of raiders would risk attacking a town for one pony. The Steel Rangers’ bounty seemed to follow me like a curse everywhere I went.

“Do you know where the rest of the Sundale raiders were when Celestia’s head was being retrieved?” Rasp asked.

“North Bank?” I ventured a guess.

“Exactly. They thought they could attack the most heavily armed and well supplied raiders in this area and get away with it. Once the North Bank raiders destroyed them, they headed to Sundale to finish the job. They found only one raider who somehow managed to hide while you killed her companions, but she saw you there, and more importantly, she saw your PipBuck.”

“What’re we gonna do?” Flint asked the militia’s leader.

“That’s for the townsponies to decide,” Rasp answered, “For now, we prepare to fight. They said they’d give us an hour, but I’m not counting on more than twenty minutes of peace. I need Flint and Rogue to organize extra patrols around the perimeter and barricade the power plant’s entrance. You, come with me.”

Obediently, I followed Rasp as she trotted off toward the power plant.

“What are our chances of winning against these raiders?” I worked up the courage to ask the ghoul as we trotted through empty hallways.

“Not as good if we gave in and turned you over,” she answered, “Personally, I would never turn anypony over to these raiders; I’d stand and fight. Unfortunately, it’s not up to just me. Sundale is a democracy, of sorts, and not everypony is willing to risk their own lives just so you can be safe. At this meeting, we’ve got to convince them otherwise.”

I had no more time to talk to Rasp as we entered the cafeteria. The room was already packed, the tables and chairs all pushed to the side or out into the hallways to make room for everypony in Sundale to crowd in together. At the head of the room there was some space cleared, and two ponies stood apart: the Priestess, and a bulky brown earth pony in a work jumpsuit I assumed was the Chief Fixer. Rasp stood next to them as I joined the crowd, staying near the fringes.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Rasp began, and then proceeded to tell the same story she’d told the militia members and me a few minutes ago, except this time she called me merely “an Outsider with a PipBuck.” Still, I could feel the eyes of those around me focusing on my foreleg-mounted computer.

“Bad news is an understatement,” the Chief Fixer grumbled when she’d finished, “You say our entire town is surrounded by raiders that outnumber your own militia, and then you call a meeting to discuss our course of action. I would think the answer is clear. There’s no point risking our lives for an Outsider; turn him over so the raiders will leave us alone.”

It worried me when I heard several yeahs and stamps of approval in response to his statement. The ponies around me weren’t even trying to conceal their stares now. Their eyes were fixed on me, the pony that had brought this trouble to them.

“We can’t just turn him over to these raiders,” Rasp said firmly, “It would be just as bad as if we killed him ourselves.”

“But they’re not going to kill him!” a voice challenged from the back of the room.

Ponies move aside to let the speaker address Rasp more directly. He was a unicorn stallion with a teal coat and white mane, and he looked tough as nails. Pieces of combat armor were attached to the ragged overcoat he wore, and a disassembled sniper rifle was slung across his back.

“If the raiders want their reward, they’re going to keep him intact until they deliver him to the Steel Rangers,” the unicorn said, staring down the ghoul sheriff.

“And what will the Steel Rangers do with him, Meadowsweet?” Rasp demanded, “Can we condemn him to their grasp either? We’re both old enough to remember that the Steel Rangers weren’t always the goody-four-shoes they pretend to be now. Make no mistake, they’re just pretending. They care more about the PipBuck than the pony wearing it.”

“Why does it matter what they do with him?” the Chief Fixer asked, “It’s none of our business. What matters is that the raiders will leave us alone.”

“Will they?” another pony in the crowd piped up, this time an earth pony mare with a coral coat and a burnt orange mane, “If we turn over one pony to them, what’s to stop them from coming back and demanding another. You’re in such a rush to condemn an Outsider; what’s to stop you from turning over one of our own next? How many ponies will die just because you’re scared of a fight we might lose?”

My spirits lifted a bit as I heard nickers of approval from the crowd. The Chief Fixer stayed silent, seemingly unable to answer this mare’s accusations.

“We do have a better chance of winning now than we did before,” Rasp said when the stallion still wasn’t forthcoming with an answer, “With the weapons from Greenbough and the minigun from old Sundale, we can fight these raiders off with everypony’s help. Let’s not forget that we only have the weapons to fight off these raiders in the first place thanks to this Outsider you’re so quick to condemn.”

“He was also very helpful in retrieving our goddess’s head,” the Priestess spoke up for the first time in the meeting, “Not only for this should we protect his pony, but also because the teachings of Celestia say we must. It is our duty to shine her radiant light in this dark world, and if we were to throw this pony into the inky blackness of the raider horde, we would stand forever condemned before our goddess.”

This evoked many more nickers of approval from the crowd. I’d thought that Rasp was my only major supporter, but it looked like the Priestess of the Holy Light had been rooting for me from the start. She had been saving this speech for just the right moment when it would have the most effect and tip the tables in my favor.

“I’ve heard all I need to hear,” one of the ponies in the crowd said, “I say we vote!”

This soon turned into a chant of “vote, vote, vote” from the Sundale townsponies until Rasp managed to quiet them down.

“All in favor of giving into the raiders’ demands, raise your hooves,” the ghoul said.

More hooves shot up than I had expected, but not enough that it worried me. Those who still wished to throw me to the raiders were clearly in the minority. Most conspicuously, the Chief Fixer did not raise his hoof, even though I had doubts that he had changed his mind. Most likely, he wanted to avoid the consequences of voting on what would surely prove to be the losing side.

“Those in favor of standing and fighting, raise your hooves,” Rasp said once she’d counted all the votes against me.

A sea of pony forelegs shot up into the air, and the mare next to me even gave me a smile and put her left foreleg on my shoulder as she raised her right high.

“Then it’s decided: we won’t give into these raiders; we’ll fight,” Rasp said, and was met with cheers, “Everypony with a weapon, get it now. Those without, report to the armory.”

I found myself swept up in the crowd as they all tried to leave the cafeteria at the same time. As we exited the power plant out into the cold night air, I heard the sound of gunfire in the distance. Seeing flashes of light out in the space between the town and the fences, I pulled out my binoculars to get a better look. They weren’t very useful in the dark, but I could see the edge of the town where the lights still illuminated things, and was shocked to see that the raiders had already pushed the militia back so close.

Soon, I didn’t need my binoculars at all to see the fighting. The militia were doing well, but for every raider they took down, it seemed three more took their place. It wasn’t long before they gave up on holding the raiders back, since they were forced to retreat constantly to avoid being overrun, and did a full retreat, some firing over their shoulders as they ran. I pulled out my hunting rifle and slipped into SATS before shooting at the advancing raiders. I was able to take one down with a shot through the chest before I was forced to join the retreating townsponies and militia members.

It was chaos inside the lobby of the power plant. Ponies were trying to stack up anything vaguely bullet resistant into barricades they could safely hide behind, but the retreating ponies from outside were in the way. Flint barked orders from a high point as a medic tended to a wound on her flank. Behind the reception desk at the back of the lobby, a team of three ponies was trying to set up the minigun from old Sundale. As Rogue entered the lobby, he fired his submachinegun into the air to get everypony’s attention.

“Anypony who doesn’t have cover, get out of the lobby!” he yelled, and ponies scrambled to do so, myself among them.

As I waited in the adjacent room with other armed ponies, I heard the raiders launch their first attack on the power plant. They weren’t prepared for the minigun, and I could hear as it gunned them down in seconds. Those who didn’t die from the automatic fire were taken down by the ponies behind the barricades. Over the next few minutes, the raiders tried again and again to storm the lobby, and were turned back each time by the defenders. After one such assault, Rogue made his way into our room.

“All right, listen up!” he said and everypony turned to look at him, “These raiders aren’t getting in through the front at the moment, but they’re getting smarter, forcing us to waste our ammunition for the minigun. It won’t last forever, and when it runs out, they’ll all swarm in. We can’t let that happen. What I need you to do is make your way up to the roof and take out as many of them from above as possible. Now go! For Sundale!”

A call of “For Sundale!” went up before the ponies took off for the roof. Despite the time I’d spent at Sundale, I had no idea how to get through most of the power plant, so I followed the Sundale residents as they made their way to the stairs and up to the roof. Once atop the building, I found an open spot on the edge and pulled out my hunting rifle.

Most of the North Bank raiders were clustered around the entrance to the lobby, and it was impossible to hit them at this angle, but there were so many that the outliers were easy to shoot. The raiders soon caught on to what we were doing, and there had been a few ponies up here before we had arrived, and tried to shoot back. The Fixers had turned the lights on Sundale’s spire off, though, so the raiders were shooting up at darkness, and we were shooting down at well-lit open ground.

After a while, they gave up on shooting back, and focused on getting closer to the building. Somepony set some bottles down next to me, and I picked one up to examine. In the bottle was alcohol—hard apple cider by the look of it—and a rag had been shoved down through the top. It occurred to me that it could serve as an improvised fire grenade, which was probably its purpose.

“Need a light?” the pony next to me asked, confirming my theory.

“Thanks,” I said as I reached out for the floating lighter, but stopped when I saw the pony offering it to me.

Meadowsweet was sitting next to me, his sniper rifle assembled, but lying at his side. His face was illuminated by the lit bottle also held in his magic.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw you off,” he said as he threw the bottle over the edge and was rewarded with the screams of burning raiders, “I may not agree with the town’s decision, but Sundale is my home, and now that we’re in this fight, I’ll fight to the bitter end to defend it. Nothing personal, I just don’t think one pony’s worth risking the lives of the whole town.”

I took the lighter from him and lit my own bottle. I found I couldn’t really take offense at what he’d said. After all, didn’t I agree? Sure, I was glad that the Sundale townsponies had chosen to save me, but would I have made the same decision? Because of me, Charity and Velvet had died. And while it was no great loss, so had Ripcord, Chalice, and Rock. How many more ponies had to die so that I could live?

The flaming bottles—which the townsponies called Maretov cocktails—turned out to be the raiders’ undoing. Unable to enter the building without being cut apart by the minigun, unable to retreat without being shot from the roof, and unable to stay put without being lit on fire, they were trapped. Soon no more raiders were standing, and the battle was over.

After a few hours of rest for those who didn’t stay up keeping watch, Sundale’s citizens got to work restoring their town. Most of the damage was to the lobby entrance because of the minigun or to the perimeter fences. The power plant’s entrance would have its doors removed, since there wasn’t much left of them anyway, and the entry pillars would be reinforced. Wherever there were holes in the fence where raiders had broken through, they would be replaced by scrap metal, just like the other broken sections. The Fixers originally wanted to replace all the chain link of the fence with metal, until they realized just how much scrap would be needed to pull off that feat all at once.

Eight of Sundale’s ponies had died in the fight the night before, four of them militia members during the initial confrontation. Those who’d followed the teachings of the Adherents of the Holy Light were cremated, and those who hadn’t were laid to rest in a small cemetery out past the reflecting mirrors. After that, life returned to business as usual in Sundale, though the merchants opened their stalls a little later in the day than normal. I was standing out in front of the power plant sipping a Sparkle~Cola and watching some ponies assemble a frame around Celestia in preparation for reattaching her head, when a conversation at a nearby market stall caught my attention.

“-and what if they come back for us?” a mare asked.

“Why would they do that?” her friend asked in reply.

“Well, we did kill off most of their clan,” the first mare, who I saw was a militia member as I turned, said, “I’d want revenge if somepony killed off everypony I knew.”

“With the number of bodies we dragged away, I doubt there’re many North Bank raiders left, if any at all,” the merchant-pony replied.

“Maybe not, but what about their friends?”

“Raiders don’t have friends.”

“You know what I mean,” the militia-pony snapped back, “Maybe they don’t have friends, but raider clans make alliances, and the last thing we need is three or four clans showing up to challenge us.”

“That’s a big ‘if’,” the merchant said, “Besides, what can we do to stop it?”

“I’d finish the job,” the militia member said, and I listened more attentively, “Like you said, there’s probably not many North Bank raiders left, so we should be able to easily wipe out the rest of them before they figure out what’s going on and alert their allies.”

The mare had a good point, and there had to be plenty of ponies in Sundale who agreed with her. Sure, the remaining North Bank raiders weren’t an immediate threat, but I’d decided back in old Sundale at the post office that it was better to strike raiders down before they could hurt any more ponies than to take the safe path and let them prey on innocents. The only reason nopony had done to the North Bank raiders what I’d done to the ones in old Sundale was that there were too many of them to challenge. Now, though, they were vulnerable. A plan was forming in my mind.

There weren’t as many ponies willing to leave the comfort of Sundale to help as I’d previously thought, but I still managed to round up what I thought was enough. Over eighty raiders had died in the attack on Sundale, and everypony I talked to said that there had never been close to a hundred raiders at North Bank, so we’d probably be facing around the same number as we’d faced in old Sundale the day before and we had a group of the same size. Besides me, there were five other ponies willing to take on the remaining North Bank raiders. The militia-pony in the market was onboard the moment I told her my plan, as was Inkrose once I told her. We were also able to recruit the female acolyte from the day before, whose name turned out to be Sunbeam. Sea Brush, the pony who’d spoken up at the meeting in my favor, also wanted to come along, and surprisingly, so did Meadowsweet. One of the ponies who’d died the night before had been a fellow mercenary and close friend, and he wanted revenge.

It had been past noon when we’d left Sundale, and North Bank Sewage Treatment Plant was situated a good distance to the west of old Sundale, so the sky was beginning to darken by the time it came in sight. Through my binoculars, I good a good look at the raider fortress. The place was huge, but I saw only one sentry patrolling the roof of a building. So, there were still raiders here, but not enough that they could post a full guard; that was a good sign. I watched the sentry fall off the building as Meadowsweet pegged him with a shot from his sniper rifle.

We trotted toward the fortress, and I cast EFS as we went. The range on the spell wasn’t spectacular, and it wouldn’t be useful until we were within the plant itself, but I thought it best to cast it in preparation so that we wouldn’t be taken unawares. I received no warning that the raiders knew we were here, until a magical energy beam lanced out from the roof of one of the buildings and shot past my cheek. Behind me, Meadowsweet fell to the ground, a hole burned through his forehead.

“Sniper! To the wall!” I yelled.

All around the sewage treatment plant, the trees had been cleared away, and there was no cover to run to except the wall surrounding the plant itself. We were trapped in much the same way as the raiders the night before. There was no way to retreat without being shot, so we were forced to move closer to the wall. I just hoped the North Bank raiders didn’t also have a minigun and Maretov cocktails.

All of us made it to the wall except for Sunbeam, whose scream caught in her throat as she was turned to a pile of glowing ash. Taking a moment to catch my breath while we were in relative safety, I reflected that things were not going well at all. This was nothing like our attack on old Sundale, where not a single pony had died. Now two were dead already. Still, there was nothing we could do about it but press on and take out the sniper.

I led the way along the wall toward the main entrance to the plant. The large gates had been removed long ago, and the raiders had replaced them with a rusty old bus. The only way through was to enter the bus through its front door, walk the entire length, and then exit through a hole cut in the back. It was a shooting gallery designed to keep attackers out. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if there were no raiders around to shoot us, but according to my EFS, there were four waiting for us.

“Four on the other side,” I told the ponies with me, and the militia-pony I’d met in the market pulled a metal apple from her saddlebags.

Yanking the pin out with her teeth, she threw it over the wall. The explosion was accompanied by three tics on my EFS winking out. Before I could warn her that there was still one left, the militia-pony ran into the bus, submachinegun held in her teeth. She screamed as the raider’s bullets cut through her, but her submachinegun also fired a burst as she fell, and the last light on my EFS disappeared.

I peeked around the corner into the bus and choked as I saw the mutilated corpse of the pony who’d been standing by my side just a moment ago. Steeling myself, I entered the bus and stepped over her body, making my way through and into the raiders’ compound. Exiting the bus, I looked for cover immediately. A beam of magical energy shot over my head and nearly hit Sea Brush as she followed me out of the bus, but she managed to avoid being shot.

No marks appeared on my EFS anywhere but in the direction of the building the sniper was on top of, so the three of us advanced toward it. There were four raiders in the building, counting the sniper, but my EFS didn’t tell me the altitude of my targets, so there was no way to tell if the other three raiders were on the roof or standing just inside the double doors that led inside. When the doors slammed open, we all dove for cover. The raider that emerged had a battle saddle with an assault rifle strapped to his back, but before he could begin firing, Sea Brush nailed him in the head with a shot from her revolver.

When the sniper’s shot missed Sea Brush, we all galloped toward the open doors. As I stepped inside, I found myself in a stairwell and carefully led the way up, my pistol held out in front of me. I dropped to the ground as I reached the first landing and a shotgun blast went over my head. The raider dropped his shotgun a moment later as magical energy blasts from Inkrose struck first his foreleg, and then his neck.

There were no more raiders on the same level as the raider we’d just killed, only a wide open vat of water and a few crates. The two remaining unknown raiders had to be on the catwalk above us, which could only be reached by climbing up a ladder. Sea Brush led the way, and dove for cover when she reached the top of the ladder and a raider shot at her. I followed and joined her behind a control console.

I peeked around the corner of the console and caught a glimpse of the raider shooting at us. The stallion with a submachinegun was hiding behind another console, popping up to shoot at us whenever we tried to fire back. He was forced down as Inkrose reached the top of the ladder and fired magical energy blasts at him. Sea Brush stood on her hindlegs and leaned over the console to get a shot at the raider with her revolver.

The mare’s brains were suddenly blown out the back of her head, and her lifeless body slumped over onto me. I gagged violently as I felt blood and chunks of Sea Brush fall in my mane and flow down my back. When I stopped, I carefully pushed her corpse off of me and pulled out my hunting rifle. SATS slowed time as I stood where she had been a moment ago and fired at the raider with a hunting rifle on the far end of the catwalk. My first shot missed, but the second punched through his head and blew the back of his head out in the same way his shot had killed Sea Brush. At the same time, one of Inkrose’s shots dealt the killing blow to the other raider.

“You going to be okay?” Inkrose asked with concern as she passed me a rag.

“I’ll be fine,” I said as I took the rag.

The truth was, I was anything but fine. I was wiping pieces of another pony out of my mane! Everything had gone horrifyingly wrong. We’d come here to finish off the North Bank raiders, but now there were only two of us left. We had to see this through and kill the sniper above us, then this would all be over, and I could think and mourn.

The only way to the roof was up a ladder and through a hatch, and the raider was surely waiting for us. Inkrose pulled the stem from a metal apple as I pushed the hatch open with my magic. As soon as the grenade exploded, we clambered up the ladder as fast as we could, hoping to take the sniper unawares. I had my pistol out and cast SATS the moment I was on the roof. The sniper was still reeling from the explosion, but she also had a pistol out, and she got a shot off before I could drop her. The bullet zinged to my left as I fired my pistol at her. The first shot hit her pistol, knocking it out of her magical grip, and the second and third missed, but my fourth shot bored through her neck. As time returned to normal, the raider fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

I swiftly turned my head as I heard a choking sound behind me. Inkrose was on the ground, choking and holding her hoof against her neck. The raider’s bullet had hit her, gouging deeply through the side of her neck. The pool of blood expanded as I rushed over to her.

“No, no, no,” I pleaded as I rifled through my saddlebags for anything that could help her.

I was so flustered I couldn’t find anything, so I upended my saddlebags and let the contents spill out on the roof. Grabbing the first set of bandages I saw, I tried to wrap them around Inkrose’s neck to stall the bleeding. It was no use, as the bandages quickly became soaked through. Desperately rifling through my possessions, I finally found a healing potion, but the time I had the cap off and turned back to Inkrose, it was too late. No more was she coughing up blood, and her eyes stared blankly at the cloud curtain above.

“No!” I screamed over her lifeless body.

Level Up
New Perk: Battlefield Medic – While in combat, healing potions heal 20% more damage and bandages can be wrapped twice as fast.
New Quest: Redemption – Find a way to redeem yourself for leading Sundale’s ponies to their death.
Explosives +2 (14)
Small Guns +13 (32)
Speech +5 (29)