4: In Which Friendships Are Made, and Alliances Fragile
Chapter 4: In Which Friendships Are Made, and Alliances Fragile
“De fide et officio iudicis non recipitur quaestio.”
"No question can be allowed concerning the faith and duty of the judge."
-Unknown
There was no more pain.
I wasn’t long out of the stable, and something told me I would be out of it much longer than I’d previously thought, but already I’d felt pain. I’d been shot, beaten, and shot again. My body already ached from travel; lack of sleep combined with the walking-so much walking-didn’t do wonders for a pony that’d spent his life sitting at a desk and reading. And then there was the pain in my stomach, trying to alert me, to remind me that yes, Close Call, ponies do need to eat on occasion. But I’d ignored the pain the best I could, until eventually, the pain stopped. It felt…nice. It kept my other pains at bay.
* * *
“Drink, Brother.” Gently commanded the hooded pony. I sipped on a canteen; when I’d try to take a full drink, she’d taken the canteen away. She took turns passing the canteen between us-me, and my traveling companions Oya and Sunny. We were holed up in yet another burned-out, bombed-out building somewhere in the Whinnyapolis ruins. Based on the formerly glass-covered countertops and registers, it must have been some sort of store. Should’ve figured it hadn’t been a grocery store. When we’d come in here, we had been a bit too preoccupied with slowly dying of hunger and thirst to look around and say for sure. We’d collapsed near the entrance. Sunny had somehow found the strength to leave-I’d thought she’d finally given up and abandoned me. Turned out, she’d gone to look for help, and had found it in a passing Purity Sister. Said Sister was now slowly nursing us back to health, at least enough so we could travel. I felt a bit better, still hungry, but no longer at death’s door. “Once you and your friend are stronger, I’ll take you to Harbor. There you can get the help you need…if you have the caps, of course.” She said, passing the canteen back to me.
“How, uhm, Sister?” I asked, setting the canteen down after a few sips. “We were going north the entire time, and never even hit the sea. At least, I think we were…”
“Were you following the sea?” She asked, a visible smile appearing on the little part of her face I could see, “Or the Tower?”
“No, I was following my compass.” I said, wondering the hooded sister was going with this. She nodded knowingly before nursing Sunny. “A PipBuck compass, or any compass for that matter, will not work here. If you are new to this city, you need only know that the sea is always North; the Tower, always East. Many a traveler has died trying to navigate through here, just as you three very nearly have. Just like I nearly did.” The last part she added quietly, as if it were more to herself than to any of us. I just nodded. “Water is north, Tower is east. Got it.” I noted, and then added, “Where exactly is that tower?”
Even robed, I could see the mare shiver. “We in the Brotherhood and Sisterhood of Purity dare not speak its name, lest we find ourselves drawn to it…” she said quietly, “But…in order to assist those who are lost…the Tower, Shadowbolt Tower, lies to the East, in the Dark City. Some say Canterlot is death, that entering that poisoned city is suicide. However, while it will give you a relatively quick death, the Dark City is a slow poison; of a pony’s body, and of her soul.” Sounded interesting; but it only reaffirmed the feeling I’d gotten when I’d first caught glimpse of it. Canterlot sounded like a readily available source of information as well. The Sister was probably just speaking out of supersttion-we’d planned for situations like this before I set out from 81. I let the matter slide-no point in upsetting my savior, right? Instead I stood up, still feeling slightly woozy. Nonetheless, from what I had experienced, the Wasteland didn’t have free medical care, and every bit count. A thought struck me. ”Hey, you have any caps, Sister?” I asked as the cash register gave a chime and opened. Four bits, nice.
“It is a truly sad day when somepony is saved, only to turn around and resort to the evils that plague our land…” she answered, “I am afraid that I do not have much; just what is in my bags, and the clothes on my back. I wish I could give you the moon, but alas, it is not to be.”
I shook my head, trying my best not to smile. “I’m not robbing you. A Brother in Sukawaka wanted me to deliver a message to a Sister in New Falmalla. I figured you’re a Sister near New Falmalla, so if you had caps, I was just gonna hand it over to you.”
“What is it?”
I reached into my saddlebags, and pulled out the small package, setting it on the ground. “Looks like a holotape.” I said, poking at it with my hoof. The Sister turned to me, then to the package. “Thank you Brother; I shall see that you receive payment when we arrive in Harbor.” She said, sounding relieved that we weren’t going to try and mug her. Honestly, Sunny and Oya had no ammunition, and all three of us were still half-dead from starvation and thirst; what in the name of the Goddesses were we going to do? Of course, those raiders hadn’t seemed too well-fed, and in the absence of bullets had no problem trying their damnedest to pummel a pony to death with their bare hooves.
I looked at my companions, blinking a few times. While Oya had been essentially naked the entire time we’d known her, this was the first time I had seen Sunny not obscuring her flank with her saddlebags. I didn’t know why; it wasn’t anything weird or embarrassing. Against her brown hide lay a golden bolt of lightning-no cloud, it wasn’t like Butcher’s-just a single bolt of light. Given the spell she’d used to escape at New Falmalla, I wasn’t surprised. I was, however, surprised that she would hide it like she did. I made a mental note to ask about it later; in the stable, we earned our marks through schooling and exposure to almost all the different departments, and I wondered how ponies earned their cutie marks in the Wasteland.
Speaking of…now that I had a chance to actually look at her, I had to contain a resurgence of giddiness. A glyphmark, a real glyphmark! If I had said it once, I’d said it a million times-a picture was one thing, actually seeing it? Score! Oya’s mark, like all Zebra glyphmarks, wasn’t so much a solid image, but a sort of rearrangement of her stripes. Hers were arranged in a spiral, like a whirlpool. What did that mean? How did she get it? More and more questions, all which had to wait to be answered later, sadly. We needed actual food and rest, and I needed to move on with my expedition. Oya needed the twins, and Sunny…Sunny needed to try and get a life back, I guessed. “Are we ready to go?” I asked the room. Oya nodded, and
Sunny just stared ahead; I took that as a yes.
* * *
Harbor, as a settlement, was akin to New Falmalla, as well as what I assumed most settlements here were like. It was carved into the city; with ponies merely occupying the broken structures, as opposed to tearing them down and building their own. “Stable 81 Expedition Log: Firstly, I need a new name for these; it’s getting to be a mouthful to say every time.” I said into a microphone, attached to my PipBuck by a small wire. I paused for a thought, and then added, “All proceeding logs will be referred to as S.T.E.E.L.s, for time and ease of recording. Now, the settlement of Harbor is, literally, the remains of a Whinnyapolis harbor, set in what appears to have been an industrial sector of the city prewar. Judging by the buildings and the size of the remaining docks, I posit that these docks were for freight, with the warehouse ponies settling and building homes around said warehouses. From what I can see, the bulk of Harbor consists of four of these large warehouses positioned side by side behind the docks, as well as some commercial development further inland. The easternmost warehouses’ roof is mostly missing; it serves as a market for the settlement. The frame for the roof is intact, however, and it appears the residents use a heavy canvas covering for rainstorms. The inside is divided into sections using whatever’s available, mostly wood, in some cases entire shelters are assembled in such a way. Though I haven’t yet been inside, I presume the other warehouses are used for, well, housing. Ponies in Harbor take a working boat and fish the sea; if I can, I’ll investigate how they found or retrofitted their vessel. On a related note, ponies here seem to have a disturbingly high-protein diet. Perhaps I’ll give fish a try?” With that, I turned off the recorder and stowed my microphone. I was sitting at a table outside of one of the stalls, which an enterprising pony had turned into a café. No coffee or tea here, though; just slightly irradiated water, Sparkle-Cola, and something called Sugar Apple Bombs. The water was, well, water, but I would have to take careful precautions not to bring anything like the cola or breakfast cereal back to Stable 81; it would cause a riot. The only way to be safe was to ingest as much of it as I could. I was feeling much better now that I had food in my stomach. The Sister had departed for New Falmalla after making sure we safely arrived, after paying me, of course-the Gelders kept a small stash of caps in the city for such occasions. I planned on resting here a few days, then heading out to the Ministry of Arcane Sciences hub, after getting a solid idea as to where it was this time. I prayed to the Goddesses that somepony knew; I couldn’t rely on a random pony that was willing to help happening by while I starved to death more than once. I sipped on my glass of Sparkle-Cola, taking in the sight of the post-apocalypse.
There were steps behind me. “Hey…” came a voice. I turned around, and behind me stood a very empty-looking, very drunk-smelling Sunny. I made a mental note to study just how alcohol kept for two centuries as she cleared her throat and my nostrils were assaulted by the smell of…was that licorice? She continued anyway despite my lack of an answer and
cringing nose each time she spoke. “You wanna know somethin’, No Balls?”
“Close Call.”
“Whatever. You wanna know somethin’? Of course you do. You always wanna know somethin’. It’s what you do, right? You know things. You want to know more things. It’s annoyin’, is what it is.” She sat down hard beside me, snatching away my Sparkle-Cola with her magic before I could stop her. She took a sip, and grimaced. “Fuck. Shoulda figgerd you wouldn’t drink, No Balls. You wanna know somethin’? Yeah you do. You wanna know everythin’. It’s why you record it, you invasive li’l bastard.” She said…again…with a chuckle. “You wanna know what I do? I fucking run. I. Fucking. Run. I run and I drink, and I drink and I run. I was runnin’ when you showed up. I was runnin’ when I came to Whinnyapolis. Well ya know what? You wanna fucking know what? Of course you do; you always fucking do. ‘S wha’ you do you know things an’ you wanna know things. Well ya know what? I’m fuckin’ tired. I don’ wanna run no more. I don’ wanna! Bu’ I have to. I have to ‘cuz if I stop they’ll find me an’ if they fin’ me they’ll kill me. Or worse.” Sunny laughed darkly, and finished off the rest of my cola. “So now I’m run..runnin’…runnin’ again. Runnin’ with yew. Fuck. Runnin’ with the Egghead. Fuck, mebbe I’ll learn somethin’, runnin’ with the Egghead. Fuck.” And with that, she was finally finished; at least, I thought she was. Vomiting all over my lap and passing out in it sure signaled the end of the one-sided conversation to me.
You know, I’d always sought a bit of fame. At least, I had in my stable. Hell, even accepting this expedition had partly been due to the fame it would bring me upon my return. Granted, it was also because Deduc Indagator, a not-bad looking mare in any sense, had asked me so sweetly to find out what happened to our reports, but somewhere deep inside was the call for recognition.
This kind of fame wasn’t what I’d imagined, much less wanted. Strange, I never knew so many ponies in this barren shell of what used to be a nation listened to the radio. I didn’t even know there were that many working radios! There was at least one in Harbor, however, and everypony in the place had heard the latest bit of news, and as soon as the words “Dammit, Sunny!” had left my mouth, apparently I wasn’t welcome. Not kicked out, mind, but yea, verily, there was a great closing of doors and shuttering of windows, and ponies suddenly had important business elsewhere. There was a final slam and a grunt as Oya was thrown out of a store, landing hard on her rump in the street. She stared at us; me, standing underneath a threadbare awning, my rear legs and crotch covered in vomit, and Sunny, passed out beside me, her face covered in vomit. Oya blinked, and I sighed. “Yeah, you came after that. You know how I said that those twins were after us, and were bound to show up eventually?” She nodded. “Well, turns out not everypony’s as happy about it as you were.”
“It could just be the sick all over ya.” Stated a gentle rasp. I turned around, and was greeted by a smiling blue buck that had to be at least three times my age. His features crinkled and wrinkles deepened as his smile grew. He had a little white mustache, the same color as his mane and tail. A pair of round spectacles adorned his flank, almost identical to the pair he wore. When he spoke, his voice, though carrying a slight rasp of age, still had the strength and even tone of somepony my age; the familiar rattle and broken lilt of other ponies his age was absent. “My building has one of the few working showers in this city. No hot water of course, but I’m sure right now you’ll take just about whatever you can get. Come along now.” He said before turning around and trotting towards the far exit of the warehouse to the outside. I wanted to call out after him, to ask him what his game was, and why he was willing to help us when nopony wanted anything to do with us. All I could do, though, was grab Sunny by her tail and try my best to follow. Oya trotted along next to us, her blue eyes and small smile betraying only amusement.
* * *
Turns out my previous assumptions had been wrong; not all of the other three warehouses were residential. The last one in the row had been converted into a massive museum of all things Equestria. There were massive, old paintings of the Princesses Celestia and Luna on the far wall, nearly taking up the entirety of it, with many smaller pictures and portraits surrounding them. The floor was filled with a variety of exhibits, everything ranging from a pony-pulled train car to an actual Equestrian Army tank! How he got that in here, I would probably never know, but I damn sure wanted to find out! I had been raised on everything Zebra, mostly Roaman, with only a scant background in anything Equestrian. I had a very real, very honest feeling that I could spend the rest of my natural life in here. I turned around and around, trying to look at everything at once, my previous exhaustion from dragging my comatose companion from one side of town to the other, forgotten.
But alas, there was business to be done, as indicated by a friendly, if impatient, clearing of the throat behind me. “I’m glad you like it; so many ponies these days either can’t or don’t care about the past.” Said the old blue buck, smiling warmly. “Welcome, Mr., erm, Egghead, to the Equestrian Historical Society. I am Curator, the sixth. There is a shower in my room at the far end of the building. We can discuss payment for the water afterwards. The same goes for you, young lady.” He added, nodding towards Oya. Payment? I hoped he didn’t mean the “oldest profession” kind, but I wasn’t going to pass up the chance at my first shower in, what, a week? Oya nodded curtly, but didn’t move; looked like I was first. Damn right I was! Biting her tail again, I dragged a now-groaning Sunny along with me.
The shower wasn’t hot, but I didn’t care. It just felt nice to be able to take off my barding and feel the water on my hide. It felt nice to wash away the blood and the filth. For a while I just stood there, smiling. Yet as Sunny’s groan reminded me, as nice as things could be, there was still much to do, namely, wash the sick off of Sunny and get her to wake the hell up. I sure didn’t want to drag her everywhere until she woke up again. I stripped her of her barding and saddlebags-all kosher, I swear-and dragged her into the shower. As soon as the water hit her face she was up, spluttering, cursing, and very, very angry.
“What the fuck?!” she yelled, shaking her head and groaning. I just sat there as she tried scrambling to her hooves. She looked up at the shower, looked around at the small restroom, and glared at me. You know, I was starting to get used to that glare, if not what came after it. “Did you…did you fucking strip me?!” I nodded, confused. Didn’t one take off their barding before showering in the Wasteland? Sunny’s horn glowed, and the thought to close my eyes came too late. I had thought the veiled sunlight coming out of my stable was bright. I had thought her spell was bright when we were fighting those bandits. Then, in that small, grimy, ruined bathroom, I very nearly went blind.
I took the full, direct effect of Sunny’s, well, sun spell. I staggered, blinking furiously to try and regain my eyesight, but was slammed up against the wall. I felt the point of a horn on my throat, and the snarl of an enraged pony. “What the fuck did you do to me?” she demanded. For the second time since our first meeting, the obvious rage in her voice was laced with fear. I didn’t have the capacity to think on it, though; trying not to die blanked out most of my conscious thought. “Tell me!” Sunny roared.
“Nothing, I swear!” I choked, “I just put you in the shower! Literally, we just got here, ask Curator!”
She backed off as I heard more ponies came into the room. I could only assume Oya and Curator, my vision was still nigh-nonexistent. “Is there a problem?” the buck asked. Sunny just snorted, and I heard her gathering up her bags and barding and leaving the room. I blinked some more, trying to will my vision to return. Things were still fuzzyy, but good enough for me to grope along the sink counter for my glasses. Not perfect, but it would do. Curator just raised his eyebrows and me, and I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. Now, you said something about payment?” I asked, trying to deflect the situation. Curator just cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Yes. Well, Mr. Egghead-“
“Close.” I interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“Close Call. Please, I don’t know where this DJ PON-3 got the name Egghead, but just call me Close.” Was I going to have to go through this with everyone I met?
“Very well, Mr. Call. If you’ll follow me please?” He said with a nod, leading the way back into the atrium. Sunny was nowhere to be found; it looked like I would have to find her later, and pray she didn’t shoot me on sight.
Curator spoke as we walked, or rather, he walked and I half-stumbled along after him. “I am like you, Mr. Call. I seek knowledge, not caps. As you can see…or will see, I hope…my forefathers and I have spent lifetimes trying to spread knowledge to all who are willing to learn. We’ve traveled all across the Wasteland, collecting artifacts of the prewar world.” I could almost make out him gesturing grandly to the exhibits on display. “But,” he continued, sighing theatrically. I heard Oya yawn. “Traipsing the ruins is a job for a younger explorer, a role that I had to eschew long ago.
“So I ask you, Close Call, to mount an expedition.” Now it was my turn to sigh. Wasn’t I already on one? One that had not once, but twice so far, nearly killed me? Curator, ignoring me, moved on. “My research has led me to the location of what would be a very rare, and very treasured part of my collection. Here is what I ask of you, Mr. Call: go out into the Whinnyapolis Ruins, into that blasted urban jungle, recover my artifact, and bring it back here to me.” He turned to face me as he finally finished, beaming.
“What is it?” I asked simply.
“Tu potest non esse gravis! You cannot be serious!” Oya interjected, “The last time we tried searching for a place we almost died!”
Curator nodded, “Yes, the Sister told me of your…misfortune. There is no need to worry with this; I am not sure how, but you wandered into a truly dead part of the ruins. So long as you follow my directions, you should be fine.” He explained.
“Should be fine, aside from the ghouls, raiders, bandits, and other various Wasteland surprises.” I muttered. Goddesses knew what else was waiting for me out there. “But again, what is it? Where is it? And is a shower really worth an entire expedition?”
Curator nodded. “Not just a shower, Mr. Call. What I seek is a document; the official Declaration of War on the Zebra Empire by the Nation of Equestria. If you are a student of history at all, you realize how important this is. Not just any declaration of war, but the first-and last-declaration of war ever issued. I’ve managed to track it down to the Ministry of Morale hub here in the city.” He explained, “Now, if you were to recover this for me, not only will I consider this small debt repaid, but I may be able to tell you a few things about the ponies hunting you.”
I nickered as I blinked away the last vestiges of blindness. It was a hell of a deal to pass up: go and grab a piece of paper, get free showers and information on those creepy twins. Score! “It’s a deal!”
“What about the others?” Oya interjected, motioning outside. “I am not leaving this town without supplies again. This museum is very nice, but I see no food for sale, and the ponies here do not like us, unless you are denser then I first thought.” Wow, even insulting me, the tone and rhythm of her voice captivated me. I could be as dense as I needed to be for that voice.
“I will provide the funding and the supplies. Everything an archeological expedition needs to succeed.” Curator answered with a grin, “What is it you think you’ll need?”
I sighed. This was all happening so quickly, almost too quickly. It put me on edge, to be honest. I had hoped to stay here a few days, rest and recover before trying once again to find the MAS hub. Speaking of…”Of course I’ll need directions, as well as food. We’ll need ammunition for Oya’s rifle and Sunny’s pistol; I don’t know what caliber it is, though…”
“Nine millimeter.” Sunny said, coming into the atrium, fully dressed and still looking quite put out. She trotted to stand next to me, leaning in close. “I don’t care how drunk I am; don’t ever do that again.” She whispered. I nodded slowly, and looked back up at Curator. “Really, if scavenging is an option, the ammunition’s much more important.” I said. Curator just smiled, and trotted out the door. Oya went to have her turn in the magic water machine, and Sunny and I were left alone, waiting. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry.” I said quietly. She didn’t look at me, just nodded. It could have just been my imagination, but I thought I felt a little orange pony nodding as well.
* * *
The directions had been simple: head south until we hit the former MAS hub, then head west. Which, in their defense, had worked out great! The MAS hub was my original destination, so I could have knocked out two birds with one stone, right?
Wrong. We reached the MAS hub, all right; my PipBuck told me so. But this wasn’t the grand construction I had imagined since hearing that recording in Robronco, which, although it could have been reasonably expected that it not live up to my mental images. But a hole in the ground? A literal hole in the ground? Really?
“It must’ve taken a direct balefire hit.” Sunny said quietly. Oya nodded silently, not taking her eyes off of the former site of the building. What I assumed had been a grand example of Equestrian engineering, a beacon of light in scientific darkness, had been reduced to radioactive slag, glossy and black and dead. Even after two hundred years, flames still burned, and smoke still curled from the crater, as if beckoning anypony desperate enough for salvage or caps to come die in the radiation. Even a few feet from the edge, my rad meter had begun to softly click; good thing we had anti-radiation supplies: RadAway to make any radiation poisoning go away, and Rad-X to keep it that way. I took one of the latter as a precaution, and my companions followed suit.
Turns out, I was, in fact, that desperate. Not for caps or salvage, but for answers. “This has to be the result of a more recent attack; there’s no way it could be like this after two centuries…” I muttered.
“But there is,” Oya answered, “You say you are educated in our history and culture, Close Call of Stable 81. Do you not remember what was said once our forces had unlocked the secrets to the megaspell as a weapon of war?” I didn’t remember, but that what a PipBuck full of notes was for! I keyed up the tab, taking a moment to marvel at just how much information I’d stored over the years…the stuff really creeped up on you. I did a quick search for ‘recent’ documents; ones that dealt with anything after the start of the war. “Here we go; a declaration by the Caesar to the Nation of Equetria…”
“Please tell me it’s in Pony.” Sunny interrupted with a groan. I coughed, and continued.
“I can translate it. ‘It is a balefire megaspell. It is a harnessing of the basic power of the universe. The force from which the stars above draw their power has been loosed against those who brought war to our mighty Empire. We are now prepared to obliterate more rapidly and completely every productive enterprise Equestria has above ground in any city. We shall destroy their docks, their factories, and their communications. Let there be no mistake; we shall completely destroy Equestria's power to make war. It was to spare the ponies of Equestria from utter destruction that the ultimatum was issued at Shattered Hoof Ridge. Their leaders promptly ignored that ultimatum. If they do not now accept our terms they may expect a rain of ruin from the air, the like of which has never been seen on this earth.’
“I guess they made good on their promise…” I finished quietly. They really had completely destroyed our power to make war, to make anything, really, and we had done the same to them. However, amidst all this destruction, there came new opportunities; opportunities to learn, to rebuild, to avoid something like this in the future. The most apparent opportunity, however, was for salvage. “Let’s see what we can find; no point in wasting a trip, right?” Aside from two looks that told me I had to be insane, my companions made no argument, and we carefully made our way into the crater.
The destruction had been absolute, and there wasn’t much left to scavenge. The occasional clipboard and coffee cup, the scattered cap, but not much else. How these were the remnants of a direct balefire strike, I had no idea. My rad meter clicked faster and faster the closer we got to the center, but I could see something at the bottom of the crater. Ignoring the warnings of Sunny and Oya, as well as the chattering on my PipBuck, I descended. In the very center of the crater were bones, enough for a large group of ponies. This in and of itself wasn’t out of line; I had been seeing bones nearly everywhere since leaving Stable 81.
It was that more than a few of them were wearing Robronco jumpsuits. And in the very center I could spy the tattered remains of business attire.
If these were…these ponies had just come here to die. Most likely they’d happened upon the scorched crater that had at one time been the Ministry of Arcane Sciences’ Whinnyapolis Hub. Had they climbed in, desperately searching for a sub-basement or fallout shelter? Or had they, coming upon the ruin of their last hope for survival, resigned themselves to a slow and grueling death? No, the bullet holes in their skulls said differently. The only one intact was the formerly sharp-dressed mare. Beside her was a nine millimeter pistol. The mouthgrip wasn’t the standard wood; it was pearl, inlaid with odd silver glyphs, which, in what was the strangest turn of events yet, I didn’t understand. The name “Chandrahasa” was gracefully engraved in flowing script into the slide. Surrounding it were empty magazines-Sprocket had given a quick mercy to those who’d followed her, knowing that she couldn’t have bestowed the same mercy upon herself. I put the pistol in my saddlebags, and sat down hard. I felt woozy and disoriented, and my insides squirmed uncomfortably as I stared at the prime example of a doomed venture. I heard voices behind me, but they were subdued, my mind swimming through a sea of sludge trying to process who they were coming from and what they were saying. One voice did break through the sludge, however, and as I heard Sunny yell “Close! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”, feeling her bite on my mane and drag me away.
* * *
“Seriously, what were you doing?” Sunny asked as we walked along the derelict roads. It’d taken almost half of our RadAway to purge my system-too bad it wasn’t in enough time to prevent the vomiting.
“Perhaps the expedition is one of suicide?” Oya chimed in. Honestly, I was more surprised that she’d spoken than by what she’d said. Was it just her, or did Zebra not talk much as a general rule? I shook my head, both in response as well as trying to clear it of errant worries of what that level of radiation did to a pony. “I got…distracted. Nothing to worry about.” I explained, spitting out what I hoped were the last vestiges of sick, earning shrugs in return. “Which reminds me,” I continued, pulling the pistol out of my saddlebags and tossing it to the brown unicorn, “This is Chandrahasa, it belonged to one of the ponies in the crater. I figure you would have more use for it than me or Oya.”
Sunny caught it in her magical grip, turning the weapon this way and that. “It’s almost in perfect condition…” she mused, a smile coming to her face, “I dunno how, but still…very nice. Thanks, I guess.” First Oya strung together more than a few words, now Sunny was saying thank you? For a moment I was sure that I’d died in that pit and was now in some mind-bending hell.
We were in a much denser part of the city now, having moved well away from the docks, and keeping well away from the suburbs in which we’d nearly starved. This was evidenced not so much in the structures around us, but the number of ponies which we spied shuffling around, always just out of sight. “That DJ PON-3 really has a lot of pull around here, doesn’t he?” I asked offhandedly.
“You bet your ass he does.” Sunny replied with an angry snort, “A pony who’s been around the wasteland that long knows what he’s talking about. He fucking knows everything that happens, when it happens. Ponies may be stupid sometimes, but nopony’s that special. Not even Stable ponies.”
That brought up, of course, another question, but at least this one wasn’t a new one. “How do you know so much about us?” I asked. “About who?” Sunny countered, absently firing a few rounds out of her new pistol. I really wished she wouldn’t; it hadn’t been that long since we’d all nearly starved to death.
“About us. Stable Ponies. I know there’s a few more of us out there, but have there been more? In the past?” Could there be more in the present? Perhaps other ponies had survived the cleansing balefire which had transformed the nation of Equestria-and possibly the world-into this bleached desert skeleton?
The brown mare just looked at the new weapon, her eyes unfocused. “You’re not the first one I’ve met, No Balls. There’s stables all across the Wasteland.” She answered simply. I opened my mouth to answer, but I was preemptively silenced by more gunshots. “I really like this gun.” My companion stated primly.
“And I would really like not nearly starving to death again, so could you please stop shooting at concrete buildings?” I shot back. My efforts only earned me a shrug and another test fire of her new weapon. I nickered irritably and kept walking. If it weren’t for the fact she seemed to revel in gunplay…Sunny was just about two steps up from a raider in my eyes, and my need for gunplay was soon being eclipsed by my need to not die horribly at the hands of my own companion, as temporary as she may or may not have been.
* * *
Sunny wasn’t a raider, not even two steps removed. There was no way. As callous, unfeeling, and unsympathetic as she could be, I couldn’t imagine her ever doing something like this. I wanted to apologize for even thinking it. We were stopped at a prewar restaurant, Pony Joe’s. “No, let’s find somewhere else.” Sunny had sad, “You really don’t want to go in there.” I told her to be quiet, a restaurant was as good as any a place to hole up for the night-there had to be some sort of food left, and the building itself was one of the few that didn’t look like it was about to fall in on itself. I wished I’d listened to her.
There were bodies everywhere. They lined the walls, littered the floor, and decorated the café like some macabre party. The bodies on the wall were more often than not headless and hoofless, with their chest and stomachs open like dissection subjects. One’s intestines had been pulled up and out of its body to be strung up like streamers. What I could only assume were their heads served as ornaments on the counter, and their hooves scattered across the slick floor. Congealed blood covered the checkered floor; while old, it was still slick to the wrong step. What innards couldn’t be used for décor were thrown about with almost a gleeful fury. As soon as we’d stepped in I was sick on the floor, Oya as well. Sunny grimaced, but kept the contents of her stomach. “Ex virtute stellarum…” my striped companion whispered, her voice hoarse. “You said it…” I agreed. “Still want to stay the night here?” the unicorn asked. I couldn’t answer; I could barely make the steps back out of the store. Oya wasn’t moving though; she was cemented to the floor, eyes wide and staring straight ahead. “Come on, let’s get-“ I began, before a gurgling moan caught my attention, directing my own gaze back into the grisly diner.
Coming from the kitchen was a pony, if you could call it that. The form lying prostrate on the floor, dragging itself towards us, was equine in only the vaguest sense. It shuffled forward on two legs; its back ones were rotted away, draining pus and blood behind it. Its hide was infested with mange, bare skin poking through. What small part of pale blue hide I could see was covered in scars, which pulsed and festered, some having split open and oozed yet more blood and infection. Its eyes had been overtaken by bulbous sores. “Help me…please…” the thing croaked, bloated and discolored tongue flopping around out of its mouth before falling wetly to the ground, severing itself. There was a gunshot, and the pony fell, a neat hole in the center of its forehead.
We slept in an office building that night.
* * *
“So…anypony want to talk about what happened in there?" I asked as we gathered our supplies the next morning. My E.F.S., which I hadn’t even bothered to turn on until after the diner, was clear, but I wasn’t going to write anything off because of it. A radroach skittering out of a bathroom had taught me better than that. “I’m not a pony.” Oya said simply. “Why the fuck do you want to?” Sunny said simply. I looked from one to the other. Were they being serious? “Are you two actually saying that in both of your combined years in the Wasteland, neither of you have seen anything like that?”
“No.”
“Can’t say I have.”
“What was that then…?” I muttered. What could do that to a pony? Disease? Couldn’t be; if it were a disease, then my companions would have seen it before, wouldn’t they? I brushed it off for now, swept it into an unused corner of my mind. Those eyes, though…they lingered there, squirming in the darkness of the hole I’d pushed them in, trying to claw their way
free. “Let’s…let’s just go.” I muttered, stepping out into the light of day.
The Ministry of Morale Hub was just down the block-I could see the balloons from our overnight shelter. Both Sunny and Oya had suggested we stay somewhere else for the night, as opposed to pushing on to the hub. Apparently the MoM had a bit of a reputation around the Wasteland-I didn’t know how, just look at those balloons! There were also the posters, faded, torn, but scattered around the city: a chipper pink pony with a curly candy-cane mane telling me to smile, smile, smile! And even the spritebots were apparently once used to spread, well, morale. Either way, we were here now, and I could not think of a more welcoming place in the Wasteland!
Before us stood a four-story square building. It had a brick façade, and had been painted over in what had probably been a bright pink before the bombs. On each corner of the roof floated the balloons I’d seen from down the block, and above the double-door entryway were a pair of large, (formerly) brightly-colored loudspeakers. These blared loud static and feedback, with the occasional crackling burst of “Come…-vrypony…ile, smile!” The only thing that ruined the MoM’s attempts at happiness-other than the whole fiery apocalypse thing-was the slew of bodies by the front door.
The bones I’d gotten almost used to at this point, but these bodies were fresh. The blood was still pooling around a few of them, and there were more than a few piles of ash glowing in the early morning sunlight. “Scavengers…” Sunny muttered, drawing Chandrahasa. One of them looked like she’d been torn to shreds by gunfire. What kind of weapon could do such a thing? No matter; my expeditions-either of them-weren’t going to die just because I got skittish. Trying not to step on anypony, or any of the blood, I trotted up the rotted wooden steps to the solid oak doors. On the left one was a plaque. Wiping the (fresh) blood off, I read aloud:
Ministry of Morale
Whinnyapolis Hub
Dedicated to all of our good good friends in the Equestrian Army, and to the absolutely fantabulous ponies of Whinnyapolis! This hub is crafted almost entirely from the finest Whinnyapolis lumber, and we couldn’t have done it without your help!
“They built this out of wood?” Oya asked incredulously. I snickered and turned to her, smiling. “Well sure. I mean, most of our buildings were built from steel, brick, or concrete during the war, but there’s no problem with wood. Most Equestrian homes were built from it before the war.” I explained, pushing open the door and heading in before she could answer. I looked around the derelict atrium as Sunny and Oya walked in behind me. Papers were strewn everywhere, mingling amongst the bones of the long dead. A sickly green glow emanated from a terminal on the front desk, and more feedback and static emanated from speakers spread around the ceiling. The very…heavy…looking ceiling.
There was a definite convex bow in the ceiling, and even over the broken speakers I could hear the faint cracking of wooden supports that’d been subject to too much time and abuse and too little maintenance. “Perhaps there is a reason they stopped building things out of wood?” Oya remarked. There were more subtle ways to say “I told you so” to somepony, ya know… “Looks like it’ll cave in at any moment.” Sunny chimed in, “Let’s get this piece of paper and get out of here.” I nodded silently; a certain expedience would be required here-right after I checked out that terminal! I trotted over, and as I reached the desk there was a loud boom from upstairs. The building shook, and next I knew, I was flat on the ground, pinned by a mass of wood and plaster. My ears rang, and both me and the little orange pony in my mind groaned under the weight.
Gunshots and the crack of a laser exploded from where my companions stood, with more than a few hits ricocheting off of, well, something. What were they shooting at? Better yet, what was that purring?
Celestia and Luna above, my ears! I now knew what kind of weapon could tear a pony apart-whatever the hell that was! Even more terrifying, it was aimed at my friends! Adrenaline coursing through my veins and the mantra “Be Strong” coursing through my mind, I slowly, painfully, lifted myself from the rubble from the former upper floor. The purring weapon paused for a moment, and what was left of my hearing caught the sound of something heavy turning towards me. I immediately looked back towards Sunny and Oya; the walls behind them were riddled with small bullet holes and the windows shattered, but they had both taken cover behind the building’s inner supports and were still alive, from what I could tell. My glasses were cracked, but as I myself turned, I could still see the figure that had fallen from the ceiling. Now I knew where that purring had come from….
He was a pony, or at least, pony-shaped. He was clad head to hoof in dull grey armor. There were no bare spots, no vulnerable points, nothing to it. Just armor, what looked like air hoses, and two of the biggest Celestia-damned guns I’d ever seen. Seven long barrels arranged in a circle, attached to a central unit and a belt of ammunition adorned one end of his battle-saddle. The other was what I could only reliably call a cannon. I could also call it very, very large. “Who are you?” I demanded, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. The pony didn’t respond at first; his guns just gave a little whirr as he revved the motors. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sunny and Oya backing off, the former with Chandrahasa still drawn. “No one’s going to hurt you, now who are you and what do you want?” I repeated. Did he speak Zebra?
“Like they could.” The armored mare responded simply. Wait, that was a she? “I am Paladin Gun Bunny, of the Whinnyapolis Steel Rangers. Now surrender your PipBuck and your friend’s AER-12 beam rifle and be on your way, or I will have to remove them by force.”
“We’re friends?” I asked, ignoring the Knight and turning to Oya. She shrugged. “I do not know what you consider a friend, Close Call of Stable 81, but in my home you are either a friend or an enemy. Since you are not my enemy, you could only be my friend. So yes, we are friends.” I blinked. I’d never really thought of them as my friends-I hadn’t thought of anyone as my friend, not really. Parum was about the closest thing I’d ever had to a friend. Insusurro and the other ponies in Stable 81 were more…coworkers. Everyone had a job to do, and we did it. It felt…nice, to be able to call somepony-er, someone-my friend. “Oh. Well, good.” I answered meekly; I really had nothing else to say.
“We’re still not friends.” Sunny chimed in, not looking at me or Oya.
Our conversation and my epiphany were interrupted by the chambering of what had to be a massive round. “That’s all well and good, but I say again-surrender your PipBuck and beam rifle or be annihilated!” The armored mare repeated. Huh? “What do you want with my PipBuck?” I asked. It’s not like she could do anything with it, could she?
“She wants it just to have it.” Sunny explained, not taking her eyes off of our new acquaintance, “She’s a Steel Ranger-she couldn’t give two shits about whoever’s attached to a piece of tech, or what she has to do to get it, only that there’s technology, and she wants it. Fucking Rangers.”
“We are the protectors of technology. All you primitives do is misuse it and destroy it. If it weren’t for the Steel Rangers, you all would’ve probably destroyed the world again. It is our mission-nay, our sacred duty, to collect and protect the technology of the past in order to have a brighter future!” She actually posed at this, standing tall and throwing out her chest extravagantly. I exchanged looks with Oya and Sunny before turning back to her. “That makes no sense.” I stated simply.
“And I’m not giving you my PipBuck; I don’t care what you try and do to us.”
There was movement in the remains of upstairs, and another armored head showed itself over the lip of the hole. “You alright Gun Bunny?” Another feminine voice called, “Stop fuckin’ around with those tribals and get up here, we’ll try it again!”
“But they possess items which rightfully belong to the Ministry of Wartime Technology! This one has a PipBuck!” Gun Bunny replied.
“I thought those were Arcane Sciences?”
“Does it matter? You know what Maple Sausage would do to me if she found out we passed up a PipBuck for a damn safe?”
The other mare paused for a bit, and shrugged-I was surprised she could in all that armor. “Fine, kill the tribal, get their PipBuck, and get up here!”
We three “tribals” shared a look. Perhaps…? “I could get you into that safe.” Sunny said. Both Rangers looked at her, and the one on the second floor spoke. “You can get into safes?”
“Most of ‘em.”
“What do you want in return?”
“Not to die?”
The mare thought for a moment, and looked down at her partner. “Well, you’re the PIC, what do you say?” she called down. Gun Bunny snorted angrily and turned back to me. “So you get us in the safe, and we let you go? No tribal I’ve ever met has done something for somepony for what’s essentially no charge.” She asked evenly. I grinned. “Well I wouldn’t want to break your streak,” I said, “And I won’t. We’re looking for a document. The official Declaration of War on the Zebra Empire by the Nation of Equestria. It’s supposed to be in here. If you could lead us to it, I’d accept that as payment.”
Gun Bunny nickered, but nodded. “Fine. I don’t know anything about a Declaration, but if it’s important, it’ll be in the vault. You help us get in there, and I’ll allow you to remove it, if indeed it is in there.”
“The vault?” I asked.
“Yes. The entire basement of this building is a massive vault, holding relics and technology untold. We tried to get into it, but I believe the door was manufactured by none other than Stable-Tec; the thing’s impenetrable. Intelligence indicates that there is a key to the vault in the safe upstairs, but that so far has also proven to be…difficult to open by force. That key is the only reason I’m even considering letting you go. But rest assured, I will get that PipBuck. This city is big, but not so big that you can hide from Paladin Gun Bunny of the Steel Rangers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Alright, whatever you say, Paladin Gun Bunny of the Steel Rangers.”
* * *
While almost excessively armored, to the point that a damn artillery shell couldn’t crack it, all Sunny needed was a screwdriver and a bobby pin and we were in. Inside were a few old finance reports, some gold bits (which the Rangers let me keep!), and a pink octagonal gemstone. “We’ll be taking that.” Said the feminine, speaker-filtered voice of Knight Gun Bunny. The gemstone floated from the safe, and into a compartment in her armor. So she was a unicorn, hmm? Good to know. Sunny and Oya joined the Knight in heading downstairs while I hung back to survey what was left of the second floor.
Aside from the massive hole in the floor, it didn’t look much different than any other of the offices that we’d stayed in or explored in our short time traveling together. Now that I thought about it, most of those also had massive holes in the floor. No, what made this place unique was how preserved everything was. Sure, there was the general decrepit feel to all of it; but there was something I couldn’t put my hoof on.
“Nothing’s burned.” A mare said behind me. I turned to face the other half of the Steel Ranger pair. Her battle saddle didn’t have the hardware Gun Bunny did: just a pair of large beam rifles, a much higher caliber than Oya’s, if beam weapons in fact had a caliber. Looking past me at the remains of the room, she continued, “Don’t look so confused. This was a Ministry Hub; it was host to some of the most powerful protection spells ever to come out of both the public and private sectors. The talismans shielding this place must’ve only worn off in the last decade or so. I’m Honey Heart, by the way.”
“Close Call.” I replied, “The unicorn is Sunny, and the Zebra is Oya. How do you know so much about this place, Paladin
Honey? Have you been here before?”
“Knight.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not a Paladin.” Honey Heart explained with a chuckle. It sounded odd coming from a respirator. “I’m an Initiate, meaning I’ve only just begun my time as an actual Steel Ranger. As to how I know so much, I used to be a researcher for the Rangers-a Scribe-it was my job to know these things.”
I nodded as I dug through the corporate detritus, looking for valuables, clues, anything. The inside of the Ministry of Morale was in the same vein as outside: bright, primary colors everywhere, with balloons and streamers scattered about the place. Or at least, what used to be bright primary colors, and the remains of balloons and streamers scattered about the place. “So why’d you become, well, a soldier? Seems a far cry from a researcher.” Out of the many things in this blasted world I couldn’t even try to understand, this was something I could. Though not quite thrust into the role of soldier, I had very soon found myself as far removed as a researcher as a pony could be hardly three steps outside of my stable. While not quite a soldier, I never imagined I’d be fighting ponies, killing ponies, almost being killed by other ponies and the Wasteland itself; and in some deep, black corner of my mind…I feared what I was becoming because of it.
“I hated having a desk job.” She said, “Plus, there’s always more to learn and gather out here than there is in our bunker, and I wanted to see if the artifacts were actually ‘found like this’. I refuse to believe that everything is destroyed.” There was a pause before she added, “And please excuse Paladin Bunny. She gets…enthusiastic about things at times.” You don’t say.
* * *
“Four thousand caps!”
“Your life.”
“Three thousand!”
“Your life.”
“Twenty-five hundred or no deal!”
“You give it to me or I kill you. That was the deal, that is the deal.”
“What’s the problem?” I interrupted. We were in an empty room back on the ground floor-literally, there was nothing in here; no desks, no mats, no filing cabinets…just a console set into the far wall. It must have been concealed behind a panel prewar; whether it had been destroyed by the bombs or by an overenthusiastic Paladin, I neither knew nor cared. I did, however, care about the floating pink gemstone enveloped in a shifting of gold and silver magic as Sunny and Paladin Bunny struggled to retain ownership. “They have been at it since we came down here.” Oya explained, looking up from a magazine in the corner of the room.
“She’s trying to gyp me out of my caps!” Sunny argued, keeping her concentration on the gemstone, grunting with exertion as she struggled to keep it out of Gun Bunny’s grasp. I couldn’t tell if she was experiencing the same amount of trouble, but I could tell she was beginning to get annoyed. “There were no caps involved, Tribal.” She said, “The deal was you get us in, and we let you leave. There were never any caps involved.”
I sighed, trying my best not to facehoof. “Sunny, the nice Steel Ranger Paladin agreed not to kill us, and the nice museum curator agreed to pay us. Could you please just give it to her?” I explained as calmly as I could.
“You seem to forget just how badly I need caps, No Balls.”
“You seem to forget that the nice ponies you owe them to aren’t the ones hunting us down like dogs.”
“…You may have a point there, NB.”
“And you wonder why no one likes you.”
“I thought your name was Close Call…?” Honey Heart chimed in. “It is.” I replied flatly, watching as Sunny released the hold on the gem. Paladin Gun Bunny said nothing, just floated it over to the small recessed panel. “Wewe hakika gani kuwa na njia kwa maneno.” Oya commented, stowing her magazine and standing back up. “It’s what I do...” I muttered.
There was a click as the armor-clad mare gently pressed the key into its space. The floor shook, and began to descend, leaving the room above us! Gears, unattended for centuries, left to the elements by the deaths of the ponies who’d once tended them, squealed in agony as we five were jerkily transported down to the vault. I had to keep myself from dancing in
anticipation; what kinds of wonders had been preserved while the world withered and died in balefire?
* * *
Globes. Lots and lots of globes.
Paladin Gun Bunny wasn’t kidding when she said the place was massive; I could probably put two of Stable 81’s atrium in here, with room to spare. And all that was in here were shelves upon shelves upon shelves of these little globes. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them in here! “I guess the Ministry of Morale was really into…snowglobes?” I mused, looking around as I walked through the aisles.
“They’re memory orbs.” Honey Heart muttered, looking around at them as she too stepped further into the vault. “Specialized unicorns could extract memories from a pony and store them in these orbs. I knew the MoM used them for interrogation, but…there’s so many…” Wait, interrogation? It looked like a giant party in here; and how was an office for morale in charge of interrogation…? I shook the thought from my mind as I scooped a few of the orbs into my saddlebags. I had no idea how one viewed them, but I was sure a way would present itself.
“Memory orbs? That’s it?” Gun Bunny snorted, “I thought you said there was something useful to the Order down here Knight Honey!”
“I did, and this is it!” She said, taking her eyes off of the shelves in order to look (glare? It was hard to tell with those helmets) at her superior. “Do you know how much information could be stored in these? These are the memories of ponies selected personally by Pinkie Pie-“ Who was that, and how did she have enough time for all of these ponies? “-and any one of them could lead to, like, anything! Weapons caches, secret projects, anything!” Gun Bunny just nickered in response as the rest of us moved on, looking for anything else of value. I snagged a memory orb here and there, not wanting to chance missing anything important. From another area of the vault came an “A-ha!”, followed by a “Hey, No Balls, you want this?”
“For the last time, Sunny, it’s-“ I began, but stopped as I saw what she’d discovered. One of the walls had been dedicated entirely to lockboxes and safes, the door of one lying open and Sunny pointing to it. “I got bored, so I thought I’d see what was in these.” She explained with a shrug, “Don’t you collect these though? I know Butcher gave you one.” I peered in, curious as I pulled it out of the box and set it on the floor.
Magenta eyes and a defiant expression met my green eyes and confused expression. Cyan coat, prismatic mane, lean, fit body, wings at the ready…whoever this pony had been, she looked ready for action! I peered at the base of the statuette: “Be Awesome!” And by Celestia’s glory and Luna’s power, I did feel awesome! I felt I could take on anything and everything the Equestrian Wasteland had to offer! I just wanted to…to…to do something! Something awesome! Something that didn’t involve the chambering of an artillery round.
“Let’s go, Tribals.” Paladin Gun Bunny asserted. I carefully placed the statuette in my bags as I turned to face her, trying to make myself confused, yet knowing what this was about. “You didn’t get what you wanted, so now the deal’s off, isn’t it?” She just stared at us; I took it as a yes. “Paladin…” Honey Heart began, but was silenced by a look from said Paladin. “I am not returning from this mission empty-handed, Knight Honey.” She explained sternly.
“You will not be returning from your mission at all.” Oya said darkly. Her beam rifle was aimed right at Gun Bunny’s head; she’d been off positioned herself behind the pair while we were all distracted with, well, each other. The Steel Ranger laughed in her face. “Really? You think that’s going to scare me?” she snickered, “This is the pinnacle of Equestrian personal defense! The most you’ll do is scorch my armor! Go on, try it. Killing you will almost be fun.”
“COME OUT, PONIES!” Screamed a voice; no, a multitude of voices! They invaded every corner of my mind-all my senses were suddenly dedicated to processing this voice’s message! What could do such a thing? Did it use a spell? Was I finally going insane? No, that wasn’t it; I could see my friends and the Rangers feeling its effects as well. “No…not now, not now!” Cursed the Paladin. “What’s going on? What was that?” I demanded, to no avail though. All Sunny had to offer was “Fuck!”
“BY THE ORDER OF THE GODDESS, WE DEMAND YOU SHOW YOURSELVES!” Came the voice again. “What do we do?” I asked, shouting over the voice that wasn’t there. “What else can we do?” Honey Heart offered, “When the Goddess says to come out, you come out, right?”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Level Up!
Perk Added: Fortune Finder-There was always a cheap bastard in there somewhere, and now he’s out. You find caps and bits where most ponies find nothing.
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Well it looks like the Goddess wants something from them and hopefully it's not Close Call but it's probably Sunny. Good chapter again
This looks interesting, I think I'll add it to my read list. In the meantime, have my thumbs up in advance.
Did you make that cover art? Cause I like it.
Thanks everypony!
I did not, in fact, draw the cover art-a friend of mine did it as a favor to me! This friend, to be exact: http://got2lovethatfire.deviantart.com/
Using the statuettes was a decision I debated for quite some time; however at this time, I figure that I've already used two of them, so I may as well be in for all seven. Thanks for the advice though!